Demon Blood
by HellFire
Summary: Heero gets his hands on the 1 thing that will change his life forever, but is it for better or for worse?...AU, OOC, death, complete
1. Shinigami's Legend

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ Warning: Bad language. Blood and dismembered body parts ahead! Death fic! A bit of OOC-ness and Relena-bashing in future chapters.

~ Note: This part is only a legend that will be important later in the fic. All reviews appreciated, flames are new inspiration. Remember the warning and REVIEW!

~ Demons are everywhere- even in me~

~ Demon Blood: Shinigami's legend ~

A tall, gruff man stood in his doorway, glaring down at the small boy standing on the step. He frowned, scratching his bloated stomach. The boy simply stared up at the man, waiting patiently for the answer to his question.

"No. He was naughty, so he needs to be punished. He's not coming out. Ever." The man retreated back into the shadowy interior of the shabby house, slamming the door in the young boy's face.

Undaunted, the boy ran around the side of the house. He stood in tiptoe, stretching to peer in through the grimy window. Pressing his palms to the side of the house for support, the boy made a face at the feeling of peeling paint under his hands, no different from his own home. He squinted, trying to see the people in the room.

A young boy near to his own age stood in the middle of the room, glaring defiantly at the man approaching him. Long brown bangs covered one of the boy's eyes, the visible one flashing a dangerous green. The man's face was contorted in rage, his steps heavy enough to shake the floorboards. He raised a fist, mouth forming words heard clearly through the thin walls.

"Why you little… I thought I told you to clean this place! Good-for-nothing little brat!"

With that, the man slammed down his fist, letting the knuckles connect with the young boy's cheek. The force of the blow sent the boy to the ground. He struggled to stand, but the man didn't want that. He stomped over to the fallen boy, kicking him in the side.

The boy was sent to the ground again, but he didn't stay down long. He rose to his knees, then to his feet. Still glaring at the man, the boy held his ground, chin raised proudly.

This only infuriated the man further. He reached down, grabbing the collar of the boy's thin shirt. He lifted the boy into the air until they were face to face. The boy's bare feet dangled a good two feet above the ground. Staring into the man's dark eyes, the young boy's own green eyes widened just a fraction in surprise and a tiny amount of fear.

Taking a step, the man hurled the child across the room. He watched as the boy slammed into the opposite wall, head banging painfully against the dirty barrier, a shower of plaster falling to land on the body. Outside, the young witness to these horrible events shuddered, imagining his friend's pain.

Stalking to the crumpled form of the boy, the man yelled at him, kicking viciously. "Get up you worthless piece of crap! You ain't gonna get off easy this time!" He forced the boy to his feet with a swift yank. Not letting go of the small arm, the man punched the boy full out in the face.

Blood dripped from the boy's nose, the appendage at such a strange angle it must have been broken. A hard punch to the stomach caused the boy to cough up blood, staining his ragged shirt and the floor. A small amount of blood landed on the man's hand, still clenching the thin arm. Bringing up his free hand, the boy wiped at the blood on his face, but only succeeded in smearing it around. Opening his mouth, the boy spoke for the first time.

"Shut up. I didn't do nothin'."

"That's exactly what I mean!" The man punctuated every word with a punch or a kick to the boy's body. "Ya never do nothin' 'roun' 'ere!"

The child outside watched in horrified silence as his only friend was beaten. There was nothing he could do. If he went in there, the man would only beat him, too. That would do nothing to help his friend. So the boy watched in silence as his friend bled.

A powerful kick to a tender region on the boy's body sent him once more to the floor. This time he did not get up. The man pounced on him, pummeling the small body with his fists. And yet, the boy still did not whimper, did not make a sound.

Another punch to the cheek whipped the boy's head to the side. Through the dirty windowpane the two boys' eyes met. One pair were wide with fear for the other, the other eyes clouded with pain and, oddly, immense sadness. The boy outside stared in confusion at his friend's sadness.

Oblivious to the looks exchanged by the two boys, the man continued to hit his silent victim. Finally, he lurched to his feet, towering above the still form of the boy. He kicked the boy, flipping him onto his stomach. Irritated at the silent child, the man ground the heel of his worn boot into the boy's spine, finally eliciting a whimper of pain from the boy.

Seeming to enjoy the acknowledgement of pain, the sadistic bastard kept going. Pushing harder with his boot, the man sneered at the whimpering. The boy was consumed by a fit of violent coughing, blood exiting from his lips. Grinding his heel even harder into the small back, the man stopped the coughing with a terrible cracking sound.

The boy gasped, eyes wide and filled with pain. Gazing disgustedly at the limp form on the wooden floor, the man removed his boot. He stalked to the door, flung it open and stomped out. The young boy outside pressed himself against the crumbling side of the building, hoping not to be seen. As soon as the man was out of sight the boy ran to the door.

He rushed in and knelt by his friend's side. The green eyed boy grinned slightly at the sight of the other child. Unfortunately, the act brought on another fit of coughing, leaving the boy weaker than before. Green eyes looked upon those of his friend sadly, then closed.

The other boy became alarmed at his friend's lack of movement. Gently placing a small hand on his friend's shoulder, he softly shook it. No response. Eyes widening, the boy shook a little harder. Still his friend didn't move. Lowering his head he placed it near his friend's mouth. No air passed between the still lips.

"Wake up," the boy whispered. "He's gone now. It's OK to get up. C'mon, get up. Please? Ya gotta wake up now…"

He trailed off, staring at his friend's unmoving face. Closing his eyes, he buried his head in his arms. He was still for a moment, unmoving as his friend.

Suddenly the door banged open, slamming into the wall with so much force it almost fell off its hinges. In the doorway stood the man, glowering at the two boys. Snapping up his head, the young boy stared at the man barreling toward him with dry eyes.

He jumped to his feet, darted one last glance at the body of his friend, ran out the door. The man right behind him, he ran past battered buildings. He ran, expecting to feel the meaty hand closing around the back of his shirt at any moment.

Glancing back once, the boy saw the man lagging behind. He faced front again, smirking slightly. The man wasn't in great shape. He could get away without harm. Ducking into a side alley, the boy ran to the back. A tiny hole in the wall, barely big enough for him, seemed to appear out of the darkness of the alley. The boy crawled in, hoping desperately that the other side wouldn't be blocked.

He was in luck. Only a dirty rag covered the opening. He pushed it aside, blinking in the light pouring from a hole in the ceiling. He looked around the tiny room, and almost groaned when he saw a shadowed form in the corner. It was a tall woman, her stringy black hair hanging in clumps.

"Come here boy."

The boy warily made his way across the room and stood in from of the woman. She gazed down on him, contempt clearly visible in her small brown eyes. He looked so much like that damned father of his, with his messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He even acted like the cursed man, sullen and withdrawn, never speaking.

"Where were you." It was a demand, not a question.

"Nanashi died. Ano onore killed him."

"I'll let you off easy this time." The boy could not help remembering the last time he heard words similar to those. "I'm going to tell you a legend my grandma told me. You'll like it. No, don't look at me like that. Every word is true. Gods did- do- exist. And if you meet with Shinigami under the right circumstances, he will give you your heart's desire."

The young boy's eyes widened slightly. Seeing this, the woman smiled slightly. She knew that the boy before her would become intrigued by those words. And that was exactly what she wanted.

"Listen closely. Within this legend are the circumstances you need to gain whatever you want from Shinigami, so pay attention. Once, thousands of millennia ago…"

~~~

Thousands of millennia ago, humans and gods existed together in the same realm, the realm of Earth. However, things were not peaceful, far from it. The gods looked down on the humans, and used their powers to torment the other beings. The humans, lacking the power the gods possessed, devised various tricks and schemes designed to hinder the gods in their everyday lives. Unfortunately, for the humans, gods' tempers wear thin rapidly, and when they're angered, their wrath is a terrible thing to witness, let alone be put under.

Every so often a group of humans would push a god past their limits. Then, the carnage would be great. Any humans in the general area were killed, homes destroyed, the land charred. No one was left to bury the numerous dead. The stench of the long dead flesh offended even the gods, and to decrease this smell the gods had taken to burning the site of the massacre. The smell of burning flesh dissipated much faster then the smell of rotting flesh.

There was perhaps one god who thoroughly enjoyed these mass killings: Shinigami, the god of death. Often he would kill just to be killing, not in a mindless rage. There was no logic to his killings. With the other gods, humans knew that if they pushed them too far they would be killed, but with Shinigami…

He had many techniques, but his favorite was by far freezing his victims in pure fear. He would corner a group of humans in a dark place. Standing with all eyes fixed on him, his own eyes gleaming demonically, Shinigami would grab one of them and proceed to do unimaginable things to his victim. The others would be unable to move, frozen by their own terror. Shinigami would kill them all, subjecting the unlucky ones to watching their friends die a most horrible death. None were ever spared.

Once every 100 years or so, a child would be born with the most unusual eyes. The child would have violet eyes. The poor, unfortunate child would immediately be thrown out once it could care for itself, the mother killed. Why, you ask? The child had Shinigami's eyes.

Ethnicity, nationality, it didn't matter. The mother had obviously been visited by Shinigami, and impregnated by him. After all, what true human had violet eyes? The child would have been killed too, but for the people's fear that Shinigami would kill them to "avenge his child's death". So the people simply threw the child out, refused to associate with it. These children were never named, only referred to as "the traitors".

They were damned from the moment that they were conceived. Upon seeing these traitors, Shinigami would fly into a rage, sure to be especially terrible if the child had long hair. You see Shinigami was extremely vain, as well as illogical. He prided himself on his violet eyes and long chestnut hair. He immediately hated anyone who shared those features with him, prolonging the death and using special techniques reserved for those few.

Humans avoided Shinigami as much as they could, and continued to annoy the other gods. However, although the gods had tolerated these tricks for uncountable centuries, now they began to tire of them. The human schemes didn't harm the gods, who could heal any injuries to themselves with their powers, given enough time. The gods simply became weary of these tricks and the people who devised them. They gathered together to decide what they should do about the troublesome humans.

"Kill them all, I say." Muttered a Chinese god.

"And just how do you propose we do that?" A stern-faced goddess glared, tight lipped, at her companion. "I don't now about you, but all that mass carnage gives me a headache."

"Funny," began another goddess, her dark bangs falling over her eye. "I hadn't thought you to be so weak, Meiran."

The goddess called Meiran shifted her glare to the other goddess. "I meant the smell of all those decaying corpses gives me a headache."

"Why don't we leave it up to Shinigami?" suggested a god as he tossed some of his long, white-blond hair over his shoulder. "He has his ways, so I've heard, of killing humans without that nasty stench."

"Where is that fool, anyway?"

"Don't you remember, husband, that it was you yourself who forbid him to join any of our meetings?" Meiran gently reprimanded the Chinese god.

"Stop! Don't you realize what you're saying?" A god jumped up, blue eyes wide, short blond hair swinging. "Don't you realize what you're contemplating?" He looked around the room, but say only bored expressions on the faces of his fellow gods.

"Quatre, calm down. They're only humans, nuisances. We don't-"

"Noin! Don't you understand? Wufei?" Quatre looked at the Chinese god, received only a disinterested gaze. "Zechs!" The longhaired god had completely ignored the conversation and began to brush his hair. 

"Perhaps Wufei should have banned Quatre, as well as Shinigami." An elegant god gestured with his wineglass.

"Treize!" Quatre calmed himself. "All right. If none of you will see reason and abandon these foolish plans, I'll leave. I'll not be responsible for the deaths of any humans." With that, the young god turned and walked out the open door.

"Should I…" Noin half rose from her seat.

"No. Leave him." Treize gently shook his head. "Who'll fetch Shinigami? Noin? Zechs?"

Meiran sighed. "I'll go. Should I bring him back here?"

"No. Just tell him we want the humans gone. He'll be too anxious to start to want to come here."

Meiran nodded, then left the room. The journey to Shinigami's layer would have killed a human, literally. Shinigami guarded the way to his home with treacherous obstacles, not for protection, but because he enjoyed getting past them. The traps changed periodically, and not even Shinigami himself knew what the danger would be.

Unwilling to waste time passing though Shinigami's obstacle course, Meiran transported herself inside. The interior of the place was dark, severely limiting visibility. Before she could conjure up a light, there was a flash of silver and a sharp pressure against her throat.

"Shinigami. There's a job for you."

A dry chuckle, and the pressure at Meiran's throat was removed. Light flashed into existence, illuminating the hall. Meiran turned around, coming face-to-face with Shinigami. He leaned against the wall, casually polishing a silver dagger.

"So? Must have something to do with mass killing, or you'd never be here." Shinigami smirked at Meiran's vaguely surprised glance. "Who is it, and when do you want them gone?"

"The entire human race. Every one of them. ASAP."

Darkness engulfed the hall once more as Shinigami's laughter faded into silence.

~~~

"Run! It's –ack!"

A pale hand reached out and wrapped itself around the man's throat. He choked, clutched desperately at the hand around his neck. Another hand snaked out of the shadows and joined the first around the man's neck. Pale blue eyes bulged, wide mouth gaped. Blood spattered against the opposite wall as the man's neck was crushed beneath powerful fingers.

~~~

The terrified scream of a child left behind, silenced swiftly. One lone figure stood among the remains of the village, long hair whipping in the wind. Shinigami. Numerous corpses littered the ground, mangled beyond recognition. He tossed the body of a small child aside, watching it land in the large pool of human blood. Shinigami walked away from the totaled village, licking the child's blood from his fingers.

~~~

A young woman cowered in the corner of the dark room. All about her were the carcasses of her friends, their spilt blood mingling together on the floor. She had seen them all killed, murdered. The culprit stood before her, face shadowed. His hands dripped with the blood of her friends, softly splashing into the pool of blood on the floor.

"Don't bother screaming. No one can hear you."

The woman became more terrified, her body shaking. When the dark figure stepped toward her she opened her mouth and screamed. The man shook his head and reached for the woman. She froze, limbs arrested by terror, although vocal cords continued to work.

He placed one hand at the base of her neck, pressing the woman against the wall. The other hand reached up, fingers gently trailing along her throat. Suddenly the white fingers pushed hard against her soft skin. She screamed in pain as the long fingers pierced her skin, brushed against tender nerves.

The high scream of terror ended abruptly as the woman's vocal cords were torn out, the slimy mass tossed across the room. The fresh corpse slumped to the floor, blank eyes staring at nothing. Shinigami licked her blood from his fingers as he left the scene.

~~~

Shinigami walked across the bloodstained earth, violet eyes searching out any humans who had attempted to escape their fate. Hearing a whimper, he turned, glancing into a wide alley. Seeing movement, he smiled and walked in, striding to the human hiding in the corner.

Suddenly the human jumped up, brandishing a knife. Shinigami only chuckled. The man was shaking so much he could hardly hold the knife, his eyes wide, pupils dilated. He shouted and lunged at the god, knife aimed for Shinigami's chest. Shinigami easily dodged the attack, and brought his fist down on the man's back. The human crumpled to the ground, groaning. Shinigami bent over the fallen man, preparing to wrench his head from his shoulders.

Gripping the man's head in one hand, Shinigami placed the other hand on his victim's neck. He lowered his head, placing his mouth a few inches above the human's ear. The man visibly shivered as he felt Shinigami's breath on his flesh.

"I'd like to tear your limbs off one by one, but there isn't time." Shinigami whispered. "You have friends, I'll bet, who are still alive. They're here now, aren't they? Waiting in ambush? Heh, don't worry. They'll join you soon in death."

With that, Shinigami ripped the man's head off. He rose, tossing the decapitated head aside. He licked at the blood coating his fingers and frowned. Raising his hand, Shinigami sniffed at the blood, his frown deepening. Something was wrong…

Preoccupied with the blood dripping off his hands, Shinigami failed to notice the humans approaching him. They attacked form the back, brandishing knives. The first human to reach Shinigami managed to swipe his blade across the god's back, cutting through fabric and skin to pierce a vein. A faint burning sensation accompanied the blade. Shinigami snarled, whether in pain, anger, or both, no one could say.

The god leaped at his attacker, knocking the human to the ground. The man's skull met with the ground, cracking with the force. The other humans in the alley faltered as they saw the bloody mess on the ground, the bodies of the other men. Some fled right then, others were too scared to move. Very few continued the attack.

Shinigami continued to slay the humans, lip curled in a snarl. However, not even a minute after ripping the head from the first human, Shinigami slowed in his killing. There were still humans left, live ones. Shinigami staggered, eyes widening in realization. His gaze flicked over the body of the decapitated man, the fresh corpse with its brains splattered on the ground, his own hands covered in blood.

"Ki-kisama! …Nande …kuso…"

A door opened and more humans entered the alley, each carrying a silver knife. One of them produced a large bag and a length of rope. Shinigami growled and lunged toward the approaching humans, but a wave of dizziness forced him to his knees. The humans hesitantly crept closer to the fallen god, ready to bolt at the first move he made. One man came within Shinigami's range and suffered a broken leg.

The sudden movement required to break the man's leg proved to be too much for the god. He doubled over and vomited. Seeing this, the humans grinned. They walked closer, feeling more confident.

Without warning, Shinigami raised his head, locking gazes with the human holding the bag. The man froze, gasped, dropped the bag. The other humans watched helplessly as their companion clutched at his neck. He choked, coughing up blood. Dropping to the ground, the man convulsed, lay still. Through out all this he had not lost eye contact with Shinigami.

The other humans became more scared, many backing out of the alley, avoiding the god's eyes. One brave soul, or perhaps he was simply foolish, attempted to sneak up behind Shinigami. Undoubtedly, Shinigami was well aware of the human at his back, though he did nothing to stop the man. With a loud cry, the human brought his knife down into Shinigami's lower back. A slight sizzling sound was audible as the blade cut into his skin. The god made a small sound of pain. This small sound seemed to reassure the humans of their success, making them more confidant.

"We don't want to kill him, at least not yet."

"Yeah, just knock him out or something and take him back to the hideout."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bring the bag."

The humans circled around Shinigami, but kept well out of his reach. None were eager to attain a broken leg. One man, who appeared to be the leader, finally grew impatient with his comrades' reluctance to strike the god. He pulled back his fist and smashed it into Shinigami's skull as hard as he could. Shinigami slumped forward, unconscious.

"Man, he don't look big enough to demolish an entire village. He's shorter 'n me!"

The men who had begun to inch away when Shinigami killed the man with his eyes came back. They eagerly helped to tie the god, hoping to make up for their earlier cowardice. Rope was placed around Shinigami's wrists, ankles, knees, and secured his arms to his body at his elbows. The bag was placed over the god's head, another length of rope securing the opening around his neck. Once Shinigami was securely tied, the humans carefully transported the body into one of the buildings.

~~~

When Shinigami awoke, all was dark. He was upright, sitting in a chair. Shifting a bit, he found that he was tied with a poking kind of rope, one whose tines stuck in his skin and burned faintly. Shinigami wrinkled his nose at the feeling, and discovered that he was blindfolded. Remembering what had happened, he cursed out loud.

Noting that their captive was finally awake, the humans moved to surround him. They knew what they were going to do to him, and had prepared while the god was still unconscious. Wanting to cut out his eyes, but not wanting to gall prey to the power in them had been a troubling problem. After much thought, they found the solution. Using the blindfold to protect against the power in Shinigami's eyes, they drew marks where the god's eyes were.

Now the humans approached Shinigami, all brandishing their silver knives. He heard their approach, and growled low in his throat in response. A few of the humans grew hesitant, but the majority continued their approach, sure that the god was securely restrained. One man, the leader, stepped forward. Shinigami heard the man's advance.

"Onore! You friggin' poisoned him, didn't you! You put poison in that human's bloodstream and made sure I did shit to him! That couldn't have been it. Those damn knives burned when you cut me. You fuckin' put poison on them too! And this freakin' binding! Kisama- crap, lemme loose! Take off this damn blindfold! Un-mmpf!" Shinigami was cut off as the leader shoved a scrap of cloth into the god's mouth. 

The leader didn't respond, but Shinigami noted that he hadn't denied it either. He smirked around the gag. He'd been right. He had been poisoned. It was the first time, and he found out the hard way that it was not something he enjoyed.

The god stiffened as something hard and sharp was pressed against his eyelid through the blindfold. He felt a moment's fear. Shinigami clearly understood what they were going to do, and why. The power in his eyes was too much of a danger to the humans. They had to get rid of the danger, but couldn't afford to fall prey to it. Thus the blindfold. He began to swear vehemently through the gag.

Though the humans were amused by the swearing the leader didn't remove the knife. It seemed that the humans were still intent on gouging out his eyes. Shinigami was still unsure as to how they would know exactly where his eyes were, but he supposed it didn't matter. If he so much as moved, the blade would cut his eyelid.

Once Shinigami's swearing had come to a stop, the leader began. He plunged the blade into the god's eye, cutting through the tissues, blood vessels, and nerves that formed the sphere. Shinigami screamed, pain and rage echoing in his voice, the yell heard for miles. Unfazed, the man continued to cut, ignoring the blood spattering his hand.

After repeatedly stabbing the now mangled orb, the man shoved his knife behind the destroyed eyeball, and forced it out of its socket. It landed with a wet squish on Shinigami's lap. The immortal's lap was already soaked with blood from his eye socket. Pain prevented him from feeling the remnants of his eye land on his thigh. He continued to scream, thrashing in his seat, heedless of the way his ties cut into his skin. The leader continued to work on the second eye.

Shinigami was furious. Not only had the bastard cut out his eye, but he was doing it with a fuckin' poisoned knife! There was no way he'd be able to completely heal, even given a full millennia for recovery! It would take his system months at the least to purge itself completely of the poison, if that was even possible. By now the poison had been running around in his system for perhaps an hour, maybe less, maybe more. Shinigami's heart had been beating double time, helping the poison spread through his blood stream. By now it had visited every part of his body, infecting it. And what with the loss if his eyes! Shinigami had never before heard of another god who had re-grown lost body parts! He didn't even think it was possible, not even for a god.

The humans didn't bother to attempt to remove the mutilated eyeballs from Shinigami's lap. He was screaming, swearing at the top of his lungs, violently trying to extricate himself from his bindings. They knew that they had to kill him in order to prevent any more random killing sprees. However, they were in no hurry. 

The poison they had used was a powerful one, designed to prevent any healing. It would stop the blood from exiting the body after a few years, but the flesh would never pull together, would never loose it's red, tender appearance, would never heal. It would always be sensitive to the touch of anything, be it skin, cloth, or even a breath of wind.

The mortals wanted Shinigami to die, but they didn't want his death to be a quick one. They had suffered, the entire human race had suffered, too much and too long at the hands of the gods to pass up this opportunity. Here, now, they had a live god, bound and helpless. A god who had been particularly cruel to the human race, and must pay for his wrong doings. They wanted to make him suffer, but they didn't want to go so far as to repeat what Shinigami had done to them.

Knowing how proud Shinigami was of his hair, the humans decided to deprive him of it. Aside from killing, the god loved nothing more than his eyes and hair. Having previously taken the eyes, now the humans could only take his hair before they took his life. It was only right. Shinigami had murdered many of their loved ones, so he should loose his most prized possessions and experience a bit of life without them.

The leader announced that he would be the one to cut the first strand.

He walked to where Shinigami was restrained, pulling out his knife. Snatching up a small lock of the chestnut colored hair, he placed it against the blade. Shinigami drew in a sharp breath and began to struggle violently. He started to curse rapidly through the gag once again, this time using words that the humans gathered around he never heard before. The leader lost hold of the lock of hair.

"Hold him down!" A few men ran to obey the leader's order, grabbing hold of the thrashing god and doing their best to restrain him.

The man made a loop with a new lock of hair, threading the blade of the knife through it, sharp edge against the top of the loop. Slowly he raised to knife, keeping the loop of hair still. Feeling a slight tug on his scalp, Shinigami renewed his struggles. His efforts were in vain. Slowly the blade cut through each strand of hair, severing them forever.

Shinigami felt the tugging on his scalp cease. He drew in a ragged breath, the pain of his empty eye sockets forgotten. Without warning he jerked to the side, away from the man who cut his hair. He hit something solid but pliant and figured it was another of the humans. He continued to struggle, not caring that the ties binding him cut into his skin. Soon the areas around the bindings were nothing but bleeding, ragged, burning flesh.

With one desperate jerk, Shinigami burst from his bindings. The humans gasped in surprise and fear, backing away from the loosed god. He stood still for a moment, shaking with anger. The blindfold was still in place, but two ragged holes had been but in them to get to the eyeballs. The cloth around the holes was completely soaked with blood, more liquid oozing form the torn tissue and muscle to run down his cheeks, staining the pale skin red like tears of blood. A few tines were stuck in Shinigami's arms, legs, even his chest. His clothes had been torn where the bindings had lain, revealing the raw, broken flesh beneath. Blood seeped from these wounds, sticking the black cloth to the god's skin.

In a rage, Shinigami flew at the man who still held the small lock of hair. Even without his eyes, the god knew exactly where the human was, how he stood, how he fell when hit. The furious god let loose with a punch so powerful it shattered the man's skull upon impact, spraying blood everywhere.

The other humans hadn't had time to run. Now they stood in the room, frozen in pure terror, weakly hoping that their deaths would be quick. The short performance only mili-seconds ago had crushed any hope of survival like an ant under a giant's foot.

Shinigami turned to the remaining humans, giving them a wonderful view of his eyeless face, covered in blood. One man fainted right then, collapsing from the sheer horror consuming his body at the gruesome sight. Undoubtedly many of the other humans wished that they, too, could faint and block out the horrible sight of an enraged, sightless Shinigami covered in the blood from his own wounds and that from the corpse behind him. At least, the humans still capable of semi-logical thought processes wished to faint. Others simply stood, watching with uncomprehending expressions, waiting for their deaths, perhaps without even knowing it.

Shinigami smiled, a cruel, hungry, anticipatory smile. It twisted his face in a most horrific way, moving the slimy muscles now visible through the empty eye sockets. He took a step toward the bunch of alarmed humans, relishing the fear that thickened the air, doing its best to strangle the humans. The god glided forward, somehow avoiding the few obstacles that stood in his path. This frightened the humans even more. Even without the use of his awful violet eyes, Shinigami seemed to know exactly where everything, and everyone, was.

He stopped two feet from the nearest human, one of the few still possessing the ability to think, although he was quickly loosing that skill. Shinigami reached out, grabbed the man's shirt collar and lifted. The man, now suspended about a foot in the air, whimpered, sounding for all the world like a scared puppy dog.

"Where are they." Shinigami demanded, his voice low and menacing.

The man stared down at the horrible sight of Shinigami's ruined face, vocal cords paralyzed. He could do nothing but stare and whimper as he hung above the floor. The god growled in frustration at the uncooperative human. He flung the mortal to the side, smirking as the sound of the man slamming into the wall reached his ears. There was no way anyone short of a god could have survived the impact.

Shinigami moved on to the next human. The human had the misfortune to be almost exactly the same height as the god, and was forced to look straight into the holes of butchered red flesh. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force his own gaze away form the bloody sight.

"Where."

"Ah-ah-oh my g-!" The man's shout was cut short when Shinigami lost patience with him and crushed his neck.

The god worked his way through the entire group, not missing a single human despite the loss of his eyes. To every one he voiced the same demand, received the same response. Shinigami killed them all. Finally he stopped above the fainted human, the only human left alive in the room, and perhaps the only one left alive on the continent.

He bent down, squatting on the bloodstained floor. Reaching out a hand, Shinigami snatched a handful of hair and pulled the head up. Keeping a hold on the man's hair, the god used his other hand to slap the man soundly across the face. The human didn't wake.

Sighing, the god dropped the man's head back to the floor. He reached over and grasped the arm of a nearby corpse. Giving it a twist, Shinigami wrenched the arm from its socket. Holding the arm ripped end up, he turned back to the live human, ignoring the blood that washed over his boots. Slowly he tipped the arm, listening as the blood emptied form the dead limb onto the head of the fainted human. As the first drops ran over his face, the human woke. He opened his eyes to see Shinigami squatting above him, holding a disembodied arm above the human head, the blood falling onto the blond hair.

The man's eyes widened, mouth opened, vocal cords began to vibrate. Hearing the scream, Shinigami raised his hand and slapped the human once again. When this did nothing to stop the yelling, the god sighed and clapped his hand over the man's mouth. The human continued to scream.

"Where. Are. They."

Wordless screaming.

The god removed his hand from the human's mouth. "Where," Shinigami wrenched the man's left leg off at the knee. "The hell," The right leg came off, disconnected at the hip. "Are," He tore the human's arm from his torso. "My," The god pulled the other arm off, paused. "Eyes." The hysterical screaming was silenced as the human's head departed company with his shoulders and flew across the room.

Shinigami stood, licked the blood from his hands. He stood still, surrounded by the carnage. Absently he fingered the shortened twist of hair, thinking. Suddenly he cursed.

"Crap. Now there's no one left to tell me where to find my eyes. This sucks. Now I have to call someone for help." He made a face at the word "help".

"Unless you want to bumble around this dump for the rest of eternity."

Shinigami didn't seem surprised at the appearance of the new voice. "You're right, Wu-man. I know, I know. Don't call you Wu-man. Well, help me find my eyes and I promise I won't call you Wu-man again. For a while anyway."

"Iya."

"Nani!? Wufei, you have to help me. I didn't finish killing all the humans yet, and without my eyes, I won't be able to. Do you know how hard it is to get even a vague picture of my surroundings? Extremely. I'll die of exhaustion before the humans do. And aren't you the one who-"

"Damare yo." Wufei glared at the other god, forgetting that he wouldn't be able to see it. "The humans destroyed your eyes. I thought you knew. After all, they are your eyes."

"Kuso, Wufei, it hurt. They used a friggin' poisoned knife on me! Dammit, what am I supposed to do?" Shinigami frowned. "I'm not going to be able to kill them all."

"That is not necessary. Treize had a change of heart. He wanted me to tell you to stop killing. I suppose this is just a precaution of sorts then." Wufei said loftily. "By the way, you can blame your predicament on Quatre. He warned the humans of your coming. Goodbye, Shinigami."

"Kuso, Wufei, get your ass back here!" Shinigami shouted, but Wufei had already left. "Kuso. Quatre told them? Sounds like something he'd do. Dammit, if I ever got my hands on that guy…"

Shinigami carefully made his way out of the room, trying not to trip over any of the numerous corpses. He transported himself to the interior of his home, not planning to loose his life trying to get past obstacles he couldn't see. He was the god of death because he brought death upon others, not because he wanted to bring death upon himself.

He stayed there, holed up in his house for years, until a human called to him. The man said he would give Shinigami eyes to replace his own in return for his heart's desire. Shinigami appeared before the man, almost terrifying him out of making the trade. In all the time the god had been isolated, his eye sockets hadn't healed at all. Blood still dripped from the empty holes, leaving dark stains on the white cheeks. The wounds from the knives and bindings hadn't healed either. They were still there, soaking Shinigami's black clothing and making it cling.

The man gathered his courage and offered the god the eyes. Shinigami grinned, grabbed the eyes, and placed them in the raw eye sockets. However, the human had made a grave mistake. The eyes had been those of a near-sighted, brown-eyed man, not what Shinigami wanted. He pulled the eyes out of his sockets and threw them away. Before the human could move, the god pounced on him.

Shinigami forced open the man's eyelid and held it open with one hand. The other hand reached forward, the pale fingers wrapping around the man's eyeball. He screamed, began to thrash around under the god. Shinigami simply used his knees to pin the man's arms in place successfully stopping the human's pathetic attempts to scratch the god off his stomach.

The immortal grasped the eye and pulled. It resisted, stubbornly staying in the human's head. He pulled harder, and the sphere popped loose. Shinigami's lips curved as he fitted it in place. He could feel the muscles and tissues moving over the back of the foreign eye, as if trying to determine how good it was. They pulled away momentarily, then attached themselves to the eye; the nerves and blood vessels connected last.

He had no eyelids with which to blink or cover some of the whites. The effect was gruesome, but Shinigami seemed pleased with the new turn of events. He turned the one eye on the man lying beneath him. He had good vision, and although his eyes were black, whey would do. Shinigami began to work on the second eye.

Once he had both eyes, the god addressed the human. "These eyes will do, but they're not enough to compensate for your earlier mistake. I haven't seen blood in so long…" With that, Shinigami raked his nails down the man's arm. Four bright red marks appeared, then blood flowed from them. The god grinned, ran his finger along one of the tender cuts. He pulled his finger back and licked the blood off. "Mmm, B, my favorite type."

Shinigami continued to cut the man, pausing every now and then to lick the blood from his hands. The human had not stopped screaming. The god sitting on his stomach ignored the human's pleas. Finally Shinigami stopped cutting the man and stood up. The human writhed on the ground, hands clasped over his eye sockets.

"Well, I suppose that'll do. Somehow, I doubt you'll be telling me your wish. Fine. Make me look into your mind. Lessee," Shinigami placed one hand over the man's chest and the other on his forehead, ignoring the way he flinched at the god's touch. "Aha! Might have known. Death."

The god clenched his hand, long fingers delving deep into the man's chest. He avoided the ribs and ripped through tissue and muscle until he reached the heart. Shinigami stiffened his fingers and pushed them deep into the pulsing organ. The man choked, spasmed, finally lay still. The god withdrew his fingers and licked them clean. Stepping over the dead body, Shinigami walked out of the door.

For a full year he used the human eyes. At the beginning they would get extremely dry, with no eyelids to moisten them. However, Shinigami soon found the solution. By using a mixture of certain powdered herbs, water, and a few drops of his own blood, the god was able to keep the eyes moist. A few drops would last about two days, and the mixture was easy to make.

However, 11 months after he had taken the eyes from the human, the solution began to loose its potency. Even when he made new and modified mixtures, the eyes quickly dried. The nerves and blood vessels were pulling back, retreating from the eyes. It became obvious that he must find replacements, and soon. Shinigami began to roam the land, looking for a replacement. He hoped to find one of the human "traitors". Perhaps the violet eyes of these people would serve as a long-term replacement.

Shinigami was in luck in the fact that one of these "traitors" had been born only a few years previous. It was still too young to care for itself. The god conjured an image of where the child was, then transported himself there.

The human mother was extremely frightened when the dreaded god of death appeared before her. She jumped up and ran, abandoning her baby. Shinigami bent down to retrieve the child from the blanket on which it lay sleeping. When the child felt itself being lifted, it woke, opening sleepy violet eyes. The god stood, looking down at the child in his arms. Then he snapped its neck.

Reaching into his own lidless eye socket, Shinigami pulled out the right eye and tossed it away. He pulled out the child's eye and placed it in the hole, feeling the tissues and muscles check out the new eye. Once all was settled, the god began with the left side. When it was done, he dropped the body of the child, wiping the blood from his face. He grinned, pleased, and licked the blood from his fingers.

After a full year had passed and the eyes showed no sign of rejecting the herbal mixture and being rejected in turn, Shinigami felt that all he eye problems were solved. He went back to tormenting the humans, never forgetting what a few of their number have done to him. It didn't matter that a god had warned the humans of his approach. Besides, it was Quatre, the one god who hated for anything to die. He'd most likely assumed that the humans would simply run and hide instead of devising a trick designed to kill.

Unfortunately, close to a decade after replacing the eyes, Shinigami's new eyes began to dry out. So he hadn't found a permanent solution to his problem after all. However, he thought that the violet eyes were his best bet, and once he had had the violet eyes in his sockets, the god didn't want to go back to replacing the eyes every year. It was fun, pulling the eyeballs form the human heads, but Shinigami was far from masochistic. He didn't particularly find pleasure in ripping the muscles, tissues, nerves and blood vessels attached to the eyeballs in his head. Besides, violet eyes were his trademark characteristic; he couldn't give them up.

He supposed he could use a regular human's eyes until another violet-eyed child was born, but that would mean replacing them yearly. Was ripping out his eyes once a year worth the limited sight of a mortal human? Shinigami thought about it, but decided not every year. When it neared the time of a violet-eyed child's birth, then he would attain new human eyes, so he could look for the child.

Eventually the violet eyes dried up. Shinigami didn't bother to find any replacements for them for 8 more decades. He figured 10 years or so was enough time for another violet-eyed child to be born and found. The god stayed at home, not doing much of anything except occasionally conjuring images of the human world. Most often he imagined what he'd do to the humans once he got some new eyes. Gods can be impatient, but once they set their minds on something, nothing can change their minds.

A couple centuries passed this way, until Shinigami heard a human calling to him. Curious, the god transported himself to the man's location. He hadn't had time to replace the dried eyes, so the eye sockets were empty. Shinigami never bothered to bandage the ragged holes in his head. They were still as raw as the day they were cut, although they bled very little.

Hesitantly, the human pressed a large object into the immortal's hands. Running his fingers over it, Shinigami identified it as a decapitated head. No liquid dripped onto his hands from the neck, so the man had previously bled it.

Noticing the way Shinigami's hand felt the neck, the man hurried to speak. "I didn't want the blood to drip, so I put it in this container. The eyes are violet, like your old ones. I heard what you did to my ancestor. I hope I did a better job."

Shinigami's mouth twisted into something resembling a smile. "Let's hope so." He found the eyes and pulled one out. After it was settled into place, the god looked around. He could see the resemblance between this man and his ancestor. Perhaps they had the same blood type.

He glanced at the head in his hands. The eyes were darker than his original ones, almost blue. The flesh was just beginning to smell, though it still looked fine. Pale, but then again, this was a dead human's head. The blood had been removed.

The god dislodged the other eye and placed it in his own eye socket. He let the head fall to the floor with a thump. He looked back at the human holding a large vial of blood. Shinigami reached out and plucked the vial from the hands of the man. He held it up, sloshing the blood around a little. Pleased, he uncorked it. The human watched with wide eyes as Shinigami dipped a finger in the red liquid then licked it off. He smiled and re-corked the container, tucking it away among the folds of black cloth.

"So? You humans never give anything for nothing. Spill." The god crossed his arms and waited.

"Ah, well, you see, my daughter…she died recently, and I was wondering… if you would be so kind…" He caught sight of Shinigami's foot tapping impatiently. "If you would bring her back?"

"I'm the god of death; I take life, I don't give it. But, since you went through all the trouble of giving me these eyes and the blood, I'll make an exception. Let's see the corpse."

The man blanched at the working Shinigami chose, but led the way inside a nearby shed. He lit a candle and set it on a rickety shelf near the door. Atop a small pallet lay the pale body of a young girl, no more than five years old. The smell of sickness still clung to the corpse, thickening the stale air. Shinigami walked closer, closely examining the body with his newly acquired eyes.

She really had dead recently. The flesh had barely begun to smell. Aside from the smell and the fact that the skin was practically white, the girl could have been peacefully sleeping. Her face was calm, skin undamaged. The body was thin, as if she hadn't been able to eat anything in her last days.

Shinigami reached his hand into a fold of his garment, pulling out a small knife. He tested the blade against his thumb, smiling when the blood began to flow almost before the knife touched his skin. The blood was darker than human blood, thick as syrup. Letting the blood drip from his finger, he brought the knife up again, placing it against the inside of his wrist. A shallow cut was drawn, the blood welling up instantly.

Before any of the blood could drip onto the floor, Shinigami forced open the young corpse's mouth and held his bleeding wrist against its lips. The dead mouth closed momentarily, then opened again on its own. Shinigami removed his fingers, silently staring down at the dead body. The carcass continued to drink, stiff lips caressing the god's wrist, swollen tongue licking the drops of blood that threatened to spill over onto the pale cheeks.

As the fluid flowed into the girl's dead body, a subtle darkness surrounded it. Nothing else changed. The waxy skin was still pale, still smelled. The bony chest didn't rise with an intake of air. The corpse lay still, unchanged but for the darkness tainting the air around it.

The human watching form the corner almost cried in disappointment. He had been unnerved when the god had force-fed his blood to his daughter's body, but when the cut healed, he expected to color to come back to her cheeks, her chest to rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing, her eyelids to open. Nothing. His daughter still lay on the small pallet, pale as death, not breathing, not moving. 

Shinigami hadn't removed his wrist. It still rested above the body's now still mouth. He lowered his head, leveling it with the corpse's. He whispered in its ear, then stood back. The body opened its dark eyes, stared into lidless violet ones. It sat up, faced what used to be its father. A small smile twisted its mouth. Carefully it slid off the pallet and walked toward the man.

He eyed his daughter, slowly backing away. Nothing had changed aside from the fact that the body was now up and walking, the eyes open. Those eyes had been so beautiful in life, sparkling with happiness. Now, they were dead, capturing the frail light the candle offered and absorbing it in their dark depths.

"Wh-what did you do?"

Shinigami shrugged. "Isn't that what you wanted? I brought it back to life. You never said anything about how it came back." With that, the god disappeared.

The man drew in a breath and coughed as he caught the unmistakable scent of death emanating from the living corpse before him. It stood, staring at him, the small smile curving its lips. It didn't say anything, didn't move, only watched with the dead eyes.

The human scrambled backwards out the door, spooked by the empty eyes and smile of the body of what used to be his daughter. He didn't dare call that thing his daughter anymore. The body standing in the shed was dead, was only an imitation of life.

He was scared of going back, scared of what the body of his daughter had become, all because of a wish made from loneliness and desperation. But he couldn't avoid the shed forever. It was his home, the only place the poor man could afford. Gathering his failing courage, he walked back to the shed, opening the door. The living corpse still stood where he had last seen it, smiling that eerie smile. He cleared his throat, hiding behind the open door.

"Come –come out here."

The body obeyed, walking out into the cold night. It stood just out side the door, looking blankly at the man. Hearing one more request, it stepped away from the door. The man scuttled past the corpse, ran into the shed and slammed the door. He lay on his own pallet on the floor, staring up into the darkness, trying to ignore the smell of death left from the body. He closed his eyes, wishing that his mother had never told him that story about his ancestor's death. He opened his eyes, then screamed.

The cadaver posing as his daughter was standing over him, staring down with empty eyes.

Hearing the scream, Shinigami smiled. He had planted a bug on the girl's body, wanting to hear how the human's fooling wish turned out. Perhaps he could stop in a few days later and inquire how the little family was doing. This was revenge, revenge for the man's ancestor's mistake. Had he really assumed that Shinigami would settle for a pair of second-rate eyes?

A few days later, Shinigami materialized in the small room. It was just as he remembered, save that the girl's pallet had been removed. The floor was just a dirty as ever, the walls filled with holes. A meager bundle of food was on the shelf with the candle, half covered by a tattered cloth. There was nothing else worth mentioning.

The man was cowering in the far corner, the body of his daughter standing over him. Its flesh had begun to rot in earnest, filling the tiny space with the stench of death. Flies buzzed around its head, a few worms crawled inside the holes in its flesh. The muscles and bones visible through these holes weren't wet, as they should have been on a living girl, but dry, as if they had been exposed to elements for a few days. Which, Shinigami realized, was very possible.

The human caught sight of the god and scrambled past the living corpse to fling himself at the immortal's feet. "Please, please, help me! You have to get rid of that –that thing!" He motioned toward the cadaver staring at them, the tiny smile still fixed in place.

"You're the one who wanted it back. Besides, there's no way for the dead to die."

"You –you can't mean…" The man stuttered.

"Yeah. You're stuck with it. Unless you want me to do something with you…" Shinigami let the offer hang in the stale, stinking air.

The human leaped for it instantly, not caring what the consequences might be.

Shinigami grinned, grabbed the man's arm, fingers digging into the flesh, brushing the bone beneath. The man screamed, immediately regretting taking the god's offer. The god wrapped his other hand around the human throat, stopping the airflow. He prepared to force the vertebrae through the man's windpipe, but a soft pressure on his arm stopped him.

Looking to the right, Shinigami saw the hand of the living corpse resting on his arm. A glance at its face revealed to the god why he had been stopped. The corpse didn't want to see the blood of its father, whom it still loved, even in death. The god nodded. Letting go of the man's arm, Shinigami pressed his palm against the man's chest, feeling the heart pulse quickly beneath his hand. Dark energy gathered around his hand, then surged into the man's chest.

A vivid picture filled the god's head, a picture of the heart, red and pulsing, surrounded by Shinigami's black power. He watched as tendrils of energy gently probed the muscle, ghosting across its slimy surface. Where ever they touched turned black and began to cave in. The beating slowed, valves opening and closing much too slow. It didn't help that Shinigami had cut off the air to the man's lungs.

Before the entire muscle turned black and rotten, the dark power pulled back. It surged through the rest of the man's body, toughing everything. Nerves, muscles, tendons, ligaments, veins, arteries, all turned black and collapsed in on themselves. They left the man's brain alone, pulling back out before they neared it.

The power returned to Shinigami's hand. He pulled away, releasing the man's neck. The man tried to cough, but his rotting lungs weren't able to expand and contract. He sagged to the floor, gasping. The cadaver watched her father's face turn blue with the same, small, distant smile that hadn't left her lips since her resurrection.

Shinigami sighed, glanced at the rotting body. It tilted its head, staring blankly back at the god. He smiled, understanding its silent message. Walking out the door, he closed it behind him. There was no doorknob. Shinigami pressed his hand against the closed door, and fire began to lick at the wood around the god's hand. He turned and walked away as the flames consumed the tiny room.

~~~

"So you see, you have to be very careful about dealing with Shinigami. He knows how to hold a grudge, and exact revenge." The woman crossed her arms. "It's been about 100 years or so since the last violet-eyed child was born, according to my grandmother. You may be able to find the new one and call Shinigami. Then you could have whatever you want. A better home, money, more friends…I only want you to be happy." The woman sneered.

At the word "friends", the young boy started. He could bring back his friend, give them both better lives. He would be careful about making the deal, specifying exactly what he wanted. He wouldn't be a stupid as that man. There was no way his friend would end up as a zombie. It didn't matter that he didn't have the body, or that by the time he found the violet-eyed person the body could be rotted beyond recognition. Shinigami was a god; he could create a new body for his friend, one that wasn't beat up. Everything would be great, better than they had ever had.

The boy scrambled out of the small room, mind set on gaining some of Shinigami's blood. Seeing the determination in the boy's eyes, the woman smiled. She trusted him to do all he could to find a violet-eyed person and trade their eyes and blood for some of Shinigami's blood. That was one –perhaps the only- good thing he got from his damn father.

Or perhaps the child had acquired another desirable trait from the idiot man. Both had been easily tricked, completely manipulated to suit the woman's needs. Yes, the boy's father had gotten his revenge, but not intentionally. He had run, leaving the woman to discover she was pregnant after he was long gone. She had had to raise the bastard's child by herself, but soon she would be rid of that burden. Forever.

"Run along, little boy, to seal your fate."

~ Tsuzuku ~


	2. Heero's Journey

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ Warning: AU, OOC-ness

~ Note: This doesn't sound quite like how I normally write, but trust me, it'll get unpleasant. It's gonna be a multi-part fic. All reviews appreciated, and flames will be my inspiration for future fics. Remember the warning and REVIEW!

~ Demons are everywhere –even in me ~

~ Demon Blood: Heero's Journey ~

Sunlight danced merrily over the waves, turning the sea spray into golden droplets in the bright light. Nearby, on land, a small train station stood forlornly in the golden light, seeming empty and dry despite the thick grasses and colorful flowers surrounding three sides of the small building. In front, between the ocean and the station, was the railway track.

A fair way off was the train itself, swiftly approaching. It rarely needed to pause at this station; almost no one lived within 20 miles of the place, making this a lonely spot, quiet but for the times the train came through. So the conductor was surprised to see a young boy, surely no more than 15 years old, step from the shadows of the wooden building and into the sunlight.

The boy watched with a blank expression as the train pulled to a stop beside the station. Securing the small brown satchel on his shoulder he stepped aboard the vehicle, dark blue eyes barely glancing at the few other passengers in response to the stares he received.

He ignored the looks and walked down the narrow isle between the wooden seats, seemingly unaware that the female passengers turned to stare after him. His white tank top finely accentuated his muscled arms. He wasn't overly muscular, just enough so that the eyes of the female passengers stared appraisingly at his body, and the eyes of one of the male passengers looked on with a tinge of jealousy. Tight blue jeans readily showed off a slim figure, clinging to the boy's long legs and narrow hips. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, brought on by the heat of the sun.

Choosing one of the vacant seats at the rear of the car, the youth sat next to the window, staring out at the view of the ocean. As the train began to lurch forward he removed the brown satchel from his shoulder, setting it carefully on the seat beside him. A couple of dark brown strands of hair fell over eyes a few shades darker than the ocean, eyes that burned with purpose. The boy made no move to brush them away.

A tiny, smug grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he laid his right hand lightly atop the satchel. That bag contained his most prized possession. Indeed, it was all he had aside from the clothes he was wearing. It had cost him much to attain the bag and what was inside. He had worked so hard to get to where he was, and now he was on his way. Nothing short of his own death could stop what had been put into motion so long ago.

Inside the small brown bag next to him was his treasure, his hard-won prize. It had taken so much effort, patience and planning, all of which was necessary. His prize was the key to everything, absolutely everything that mattered to they boy. With it he could get all he had ever wanted and more. Loose it and he would loose everything, very likely including his life. It was the key, the one object that could and would change Heero Yui's life forever.

Duo Maxwell's head.

~ Tsuzuku ~


	3. Memories of the Key

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ Warning: AU, OOC-ness, Relena-bashing

~ Note: All reviews appreciated, and flames will be my inspiration for future fics. Remember the warning and REVIEW!

~ Demons are everywhere –even in me ~

~ Demon Blood: Memories of the Key ~

The head was wrapped securely in a plastic bag just in case it hadn't been properly bled. It wouldn't do if blood began to drip from the satchel. That would lead to questioning, which would result in loosing the head which he had worked so hard for. Furthermore, the blood itself was important, and Heero couldn't let a single drop of the precious red liquid to go to waste.

The head, Duo Maxwell's head. It was right next to him, eyes open although they could see nothing, ghostly white face forever frozen in a shocked expression. Heero could see it clearly in his mind's eye, just as he had seen it while it was still attached to a living, breathing Duo Maxwell, just before he had been killed.

It had taken him such a long time to find the braided boy's location, then to plan how to approach him without seeming suspicious. Heero had had to befriend the boy, earn his trust. Because he was naturally anti-social, he had assumed this would be difficult, but the task had proven to be easier than anticipated, thanks to Duo's over-friendly nature. It had taken a long time, but he had done it.

Heero leaned back on the hard wooden seat, letting his eyes fall closed as he let the memories come back. Although he had recalled the moment of Duo's death quite often, this time his mind traveled further back. He remembered the day he had first come into contact with the braided teen whose head and blood were the keys to Heero's future.

~~~ Memory Sequence ~~~

He had been wandering for days, searching the streets aimlessly. He was finally there in America, his home city. He had arrived by plane a week ago and had been scouring the streets ever since in hopes of finding his target. So far his search had been unpromising with not one sign of the other boy.

Heero knew Duo's address, had even searched it out on his first day in the city. Anti-social though he was Heero knew it would seem extremely suspicious if he suddenly appeared at the front of the building and greeted Duo the moment he showed up. He needed to be subtle, meet Duo in a normal circumstance. However, Heero was at a slight disadvantage having never made friends with anyone before.

So was that Heero began to wander the streets, hoping to meet the boy in as natural a setting as was possible. The Fates had not been kind. They had denied any meeting between the two boys, enjoying Heero's growing annoyance with his search. Heero however, was determined to find Duo, Fates on his side or no. So determined was he that he refused to sleep except for short naps to keep total exhaustion at bay. Food was another distraction, and although he often visited fast food places not a single order was placed, not a morsel of food eaten.

Soon Heero became light-headed with hunger and fatigue, but he was too involved with his quest to let that bother him. He ignored the ache in his stomach and the heaviness of his eyelids. Becoming lethargic didn't seem to trouble him; in truth the idea might not have ever entered Heero's mind. He was too wrapped up in this purpose, this mission, to think about much else. Finding Duo Maxwell became his reason to live.

He had plans, important plans for Duo. Or rather, important plans for Duo's head and blood. Once he had found the boy and won his trust the fun could begin. Heero would kill Duo, slicing off his head and saving the blood. Then, with the head and blood secured, he could dispose of the body and make his way back to Japan, his own home country. And there, in a remote village near the mountains, he could conduct the ceremony that would give him all he asked for.

He would have it all, and once it was in his possession nothing could take it from him. He could reach his goal, accomplish hi-

"Hey, are you absolutely crazy!?" Heero turned to face the source of the loud noise that interrupted his contemplation of the future.

A boy around Heero's own age bounded toward him, arm held over his head in a pathetic imitation of an umbrella. Heero blinked, only just realizing that is was raining, big drops falling and further drenching the already soaked boys. Chestnut brown bangs streamed over wide violet eyes, clinging to the pale face. The boy gripped Heero's arm and continued running, forcing Heero to run behind him. A long braid bumped against the owner's back, rain pouring down the length of it onto the boy's shirt.

It was him, Duo Maxwell. The one he had been searching for for so long had found him. Heero remained dazed as Duo yanked him under the relative shelter of a building awning. His body shivered as an automatic response to the cold water soaking his clothes. Heero ignored the cold and his body's response to it, concentrating on the fact that his search was finally complete. He could now move on to the next stage of his plans: befriend Duo.

Heero's vision wavered as the lack of sleep and nourishment finally caught up to him. He leaned back against the brick wall of the building, knees threatening to give way. The last of his strength waned, and he had to struggle to keep from falling. Heero no longer heard the apparently endless steam of words that had not stopped pouring from Duo's lips since he interrupted Heero's train of thought. Duo's voice became muted, blending in with the falling rain to produce an almost comforting, low-pitched hum.

Suddenly the calmness that had begun inside Heero was shattered. The hum had changed its pitch, mutated into a noise that grated against his nerves, setting him on edge. Heero barely noted that Duo had turned to face him, the expression written across his features unlike any that Heero had ever witnessed before. Duo was babbling at him again, but the now thundering rain swallowed his words before they reached Heero's ears.

Heero watched dumbly as the other teen grabbed his arm once again, placing it around his neck. He was vaguely aware of Duo's arm around his waist, supporting him as Duo half-dragged, half-carried the other boy down the block. Duo shoved his way through the doors of a large building. He shouted to someone, the sound so loud Heero almost cringed.

People came running, their shoes clicking on the polished floor. Heero barely registered being bodily picked up and carried. He was moved so quickly that he had to shut his eyes against the waves of dizziness threatening to overwhelm him. Fragmented images and broken sounds passed through his mind, indecipherable because of the pounding of his head and the white noise filling his brain.

Soft fabric was under Heero's back and he sank into it. Briefly he wondered if the braided boy had left. Waves of darkness plucked that thought from his grasp, flinging it away beyond his reach. They converged upon him, filling every corner of his mind, claiming him for their own.

~~~

Slowly Heero opened his eyes, a headache pounding behind his eyes. Wide violet eyes peered back at him, the pulled away. Heero struggled to sit up, succeeding only when he received help from two pale hands. He ignored the headache and took stock of his surroundings.

Apparently he was in an apartment bedroom, judging from the size. A small dresser was pushed up against the far wall next to a closed door. Various articles of clothing hung out of the drawers, some lying in piles on the carpet. Most were black, contrasting with the cream color of the carpet. A stereo system balanced atop a shelf, CD's scattered nearby. Across the room was another door, open to reveal a television set.

Right next to the bed perched on a chair was a boy with chestnut brown hair and violet eyes. Duo hadn't left; Heero didn't need to search him out again. When Heero met Duo's eyes the other boy let out a loud sigh, leaning back in his chair and raking a hand through his bangs. As soon as he had taken another breath Duo immediately launched into a rapid stream of questions that would have left any other human red-faced and breathless in half the time.

"Damn, you sure scared me back there. I mean, it's not everyday I see some guy standing in a downpour like that who faints when I drag him outta the rain. Are you ok now? Or are you gonna faint again? By the way, the name's Duo, Duo Maxwell. I run, I hide, but I never lie. Who're you?"

Heero blinked at the smiling teen. "Heero Yui."

"Heero, huh? Nice to meet ya. What were you doin out there anyway? Do ya always stand in the rain or is that a recent development? Y'know-"

Heero cut him off. "Urusai."

"What? Is that Chinese or something? C'n ya say that in English? Y'know, I've got a friend who's Chinese. He gets real mad when I-"

" 'Noisy'. Be quiet."

"Oh." For a moment Duo seemed at a loss. Then he recovered. "You want some water or something?"

Heero gave a short, curt nod. Duo jumped out of his chair and pranced out the open door. Once he was out of sight, Heero slid out of the bed. He walked around the small room, dodging piles of discarded clothes and music disks. Coming to the closed door he opened it, cautiously peering in at the tiny bathroom beyond.

"What, y'never seen a toilet b'fore?"

Heero whirled around to come face-to-face with Duo. The braided teen had a huge smile on his face, a glass of water in his hand. Pushing the water into Heero's hand, Duo ushered him back to the bed, babbling something about Heero needing to rest. Heero was forced to sit down and drink the water. As soon as he had drained the glass he glared at Duo.

Usually this glare was enough to make the unfortunate recipient back away. Some people even trembled in fear. However, Duo only raised and eyebrow, cocking his head and grinning again. Heero was vaguely surprised but didn't let his mask slip, keeping his stony glare in place.

"What're you glarin at me for? If anything, it should be the other way around. I mean, I did save you back there y'know." Duo narrowed his eyes. "What happened? Doc said you were under-nourished and dehy, dehy-somehting-or-other…"

"Dehydrated. I don't have enough fluids."

"Oh, want more water? How bout some lunch? Damn, it's already 1:30. I'm gonna make a sandwich an you're gonna eat one too. Hope you don't mind tuna, cuz that's all I got."

Heero tuned out the rest of Duo's words and watched him bounce out of the room again, taking the empty cup along. That boy was so expressive, so energetic, so… alive. It would be a pleasure to behead him, freeze that face forever in an expression of fear, make the flow of energy stop, watch the spark of life fade from the violet eyes.

He blinked. It was not smart to get ahead of himself. The plan was already laid out. To think too much about the pleasurable parts would only result in becoming sloppy, over-eager. He had only this one chance; there was no way his plans would get fucked up just because he became impatient.

Pushing himself off the bed once again, Heero hesitated. Would Duo kick him out once he knew that Heero was fine? If so, it would be best to feign illness, at least long enough to gain Duo's trust so he could kill the boy. However, the thought of appearing weak, even if it was only a façade, made Heero want to curl his lip in disgust. But any outward sign of emotion could be mistaken for weakness, so he refrained form doing so. 

Mind made up, Heero walked to the door Duo had disappeared through. The small room he found himself in was made to look even smaller by the clutter filling it. A small collapsible table was placed between a dilapidated couch and the small television set he had glimpsed before. A portable disk player sat on top the table along with the tangled earphones and a few more CD's. Loose-leaf paper, some with writing and some without also occupied the table and covered roughly half of the old couch.

A book bag rested next to the couch, schoolbooks spilling out onto the floor. The tiny kitchenette was separated from the rest of the room only by a low counter. Duo appeared to be very busy in the making of the food in this small space, stepping from the mini-refrigerator to the drawers on the other side. Heero let his eyes linger a moment on the boy's slender neck, the neck that he would slit very soon, if everything went as planned.

Quickly he masked his expression before Duo could turn and see it. The braided boy might have become suspicious if he saw the wanting in Heero's gaze. Any way he might interpret the expression would only endanger Heero's mission. He would not let that happen.

Emotionless eyes watched as Duo turned around and placed two paper plates on the counter, each holding a tuna sandwich. For a split second he looked surprised, but quickly recovered, masking the surprise with a low chuckle. Pulling two cans out of the refrigerator, he tossed one to Heero. After glancing at the label he placed it back in its place.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Didn't know ya don't like beer. Well, that's all I got, 'less you want more water?" Seeing Heero's nod he snatched a cup and filled it with tap water. "Don't worry; it's clean."

Heero was unsure whether the other boy was referring to the glass of the water, but he took the offered glass anyway. The boy grinned yet again, then moved next to the couch. Gathering the papers scattered over the piece of furniture proved a larger task than it appeared to be. Heero walked over and began to help clear the couch, earning another surprised glance and a grin from Duo.

Once the task was completed Duo handed Heero his plate and cup, gesturing grandly at the couch. "The best seat in the house, er, apartment. Mind if I share with ya?" Without moment's hesitation he plopped down onto the couch and began to eat his sandwich, talking all the while.

Heero tuned him out again, instead concentrating on his first meal in days. He had never had anything like it before. The tuna was cut up and mixed with a pasty food substance he couldn't quite place. The think mixture had an interesting taste, although it didn't taste like the tuna Heero had eaten before. He finished the sandwich quickly, and the gnawing ache in his stomach eased.

"Wow, you ate that fast! You'd think you hadn't eaten in days or somethin! Want another?"

Heero nodded, not bothering to mention that Duo had been right about his not eating in days. When Duo came back with a sandwich for both Heero and himself, Heero forced himself to thank the boy. Although it created a foul taste in his mouth, Heero knew it was necessary. He had to at least try to seem a bit friendlier in order to gain Duo's trust quickly.

Duo himself seemed not to notice how forced the thanks had been. At any rate, he handed Hero the sandwich and sat next to him again, happily munching. Between bites he chatted about apparently random subjects, switching from one thing to the next so fast it was next to impossible to follow the dialogue.

Heero tuned out most of it, only hearing random words and phrases. He had known the boy talked excessively, but to talk this much? How was he able to form thoughts fast enough? His friends- Heero knew about them too- must either be exceptionally good at blocking out unwanted noise, or have massive head- or earaches whenever they spoke with the boy.

The doorbell interrupted Duo's sentence.

"Huh? Aw, shit. I forgot bout that English project. Relena said she'd be comin over to work on it t'day. Hey, Heero-man, watch out for that girl. She's crazy! And Mr. T. grouped me with her? Man, he came unglued from that chair eventually!"

The doorbell stopped ringing. Pounding took its place.

"Aw, dammit! What am I gonna do? I don't wanna talk to her! She's evil!" Duo frantically searched the apartment. "I know! I'll knock her out! Naw, her head's too hard; break whatever I used…"

"Duo!" A high-pitched whine came through the closed door. "Open this door right now! I know you're here. Come on Duo; we have to work on our English project. I am not going to get a bad grade just because you wouldn't open the door! Duo!"

The sound was so piercing that Heero's eyes widened the tiniest bit. Quickly he schooled his face into the expressionless mask he had perfected. Glancing at Duo Heero noted that the other boy was inhaling deeply, eyes closed. After a moment Duo opened his eyes, forced a smile onto this face, walked determinedly to the door and opened it.

Heero's mask slipped a little as he saw a girl dressed completely in pink. Dress, shoes, bag, even hair ties were pink. When the cornflower-blue eyes landed on Heero, the frown previously curving her lips down was instantly replaced by a smile. She waltzed over to where Heero was still sitting on the couch, handing her bag to Duo.

"Hello, my name is Relena Darlain, daughter of Vice Foreign Minister Darlain. I'm sure you've heard of him; he is only one of the richest men in the country, you know. I don't believe I caught your name…"

"Hn." Heero stood up, walking around the girl to take care of the remnants of lunch.

"His name's Heero," Duo spoke up from where he stood near the door. "He's stayin with me for a while."

"But Duo, you only have one bed. You two aren't-lovers- are you?" Relena, wide-eyed, took a step away from Duo, who, in response, rolled his eyes.

"Heero's sleepin on the couch, aren't ya Heero?" he called out to Heero, who was observing the exchange from the counter separating the kitchenette from the main room. Heero nodded in response.

"Oh, good." Relena sighed dramatically. "Heero, don't you get uncomfortable on that old couch? I'm sure a hotel would be much better accommodated. If you don't have the money I'm sure my father-"

"Yo," Duo interrupted. "Sorry to interrupt ya Relena, but didn't you come here to work on our English project?"

"Oh." Relena frowned. "Yes, of course. Heero, you won't be too bored while I work on my project, will you?"

Duo snorted. "Heero's a big boy, Relena. He can walk outta this apartment at any time and find somethin to do all by himself." With that the braided teen walked into his room and emerged with a stack of papers, a few books, and a pencil. Relena sighed and retrieved a few papers and a book from her bag.

As the two teenagers worked on their project, Heero took the opportunity to explore the apartment. True it was a small one, but Duo had so many belongings that the exploration took quite some time. It wasn't only for recreational purposes that Heero took this tour of Duo's home. He has a mission to complete and in order to do that he needed to learn as much as he could about the braided boy.

He recalled the long months spent finding information on his target. That search had provided Heero with necessary details about Duo's behavior, temperament, and physical features, but there was only so much he could gather from his limited sources. The best way to find out everything about a person was to find the person themself and learn their secrets that way.

The afternoon passed quickly, but Heero was all too much aware that every time he passed through the living room Relena would turn to stare at him. It was vaguely disconcerting, having someone stare at him every time he passed through the room. Finally Heero gave u searching through that room, at least while Relena was there. Duo's bedroom was much more interesting, and provided Heero with valuable information. He was examining Duo's CD collection when Relena walked in.

"Heero, I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving now. It was a pleasure meeting you. I would like to get to know you better though. I'm sure I can clear some time for a chat. Here's my number. Just call and tell me when you're free, and we'll have a nice talk, just the two of us." Relena pressed a slip of paper into Heero's hand, then walked toward the door. "I'll be waiting. Goodbye, Heero."

As soon as she had left, Duo joined Heero on the floor. "Damn, I'm glad she's gone. So, what was all that about?"

"Hn." Heero gave the paper from Relena to Duo, glancing at it for the first time.

Instead of a simple, 7-number phone number, Relena had written all over the small scrap of paper. There were things like 'Don't forget to call me, Heero!' 'I'll wait for your call' and other such nonsense. Drawn in the margins were hearts and stars. The entire ting was written in bright pink pen.

"You gonna call her?" Heero raised an eyebrow. "Good. That's one girl you don't wanna mess with. She'll kill you with her boasting bout her family's wealth. That's why I like Quatre. He's rich, but he don't act like it. What bout you, Heero? You rich? Or poor, like me?"

"I'm broke."

"Oh, sorry man. Look, ya c'n stay here as long as ya like, so long as ya don't mind the couch. I know of some jobs ya could apply for, if ya like." Duo continued.

Heero nodded. What he had told Duo hadn't been the entire truth. He did have money, but that money was for the plane ride to Japan and the train ride from there to the village where the ceremony would take place. However, Heero didn't have much money left over for food, so the extra cash would help. And if telling Duo he was broke helped him accomplish his mission, he would do it. He would do anything to complete his objective. An image of Relena flashed through his mind.

Well, almost anything.

Loud music blaring from the speakers only inches from Heero's ear jolted him back to the present. He glared at Duo, who was obliviously bopping his head to the beat. How could Duo take the strain on his ears? Transferring his glare to the offending stereo, Heero gave the volume knob a violent twist that effectively muted the noise.

Duo started, turning confused and slightly angry eyes on Heero. "Why'd y'do that? I love that song."

"It was too loud. You'll damage your hearing," Heero added to make the comment softer.

"Oh. Now way didn't ya jus say so?" Not bothering to wait for a response, Duo reached for the volume knob. Heero thought it was still a bit loud, but figured that Duo would become suspicious if Heero fought with him about something as trivial as music volume. He internally sighed, stood up, and walked out of the room.

He picked up where he left off in his search of the living room and kitchenette. Opening a drawer, Heero saw various kitchen utensils, as expected. Rooting through the drawer, the gleam of a knife caught his eye. He glanced at Duo's open door. Satisfied that the boy wouldn't be coming out for a while and the music pounding through the apartment masked the soft sounds he made, Heero pulled the knife out.

Running his thumb over the blade, he discovered that it was in desperate need of sharpening if it was to be of any use. It would be tough to cut food with this knife, let alone a human neck. Perhaps there was a sharper knife, or something that could do to sharpen this one. Otherwise he would have to go out and purchase a knife or dagger himself.

Heero placed the knife back in the drawer just before Duo came barreling out of his room.

"Aw, you were gonna make dinner. Well, don't bother. You have any other clothes? No? OK, we're gonna go shopping. Then we'll eat dinner. Greasy french fries and fatty hamburgers, yum! Don't worry, my treat. You can pay me back for the clothes after you get your first paycheck."

Duo bounced back to his room. The music finally shut off, and Duo reappeared, shoving a handful of cash into his pocket. He snatched the keys off a table and opened the door. He stepped out, shutting the slab of wood behind Heero and locking it. Duo literally pushed the other boy to the elevators, chattering nonstop.

Once outside, Heero couldn't stop staring at everything around him. True, he had been in the city for a week, but he had been so intent on finding the braided teen that he hadn't pain much attention to his surroundings. Duo noticed his companion's distraction and seemed amused by the way Heero stared intently at everything.

"You act like you've never seen anything like this before."

"I haven't," Heero replied without thinking. "I lived in an old part of Japan my whole life. This is the first time I've ever left the country."

Duo looked at him oddly, but Heero failed to notice the look. "Well," Duo's face once more appeared carefree and happy. "That explains the accent and funny words."

Before Heero could reply, he was shoved into a nearby store and faced with more racks of various clothes than he had ever seen at once before. Some styles were familiar, but there were so many colors and designs, not to mention the fact that the clothes were all new, unlike the ones Heero had been forced to wear his entire life. He stood still for a moment, just looking around, before Duo realized that his newfound friend wasn't right behind him.

"C'mon Heero!" Duo grabbed Heero's arm and began to drag him deeper into the store. "That stuff won't fit you. Back here!"

Heero let Duo pull him along, tolerating the many times the braided teen held up a garment against Heero's body. By the time they left the store, it was nearing 6:30 and Heero had two shirts and a pair of jeans, all new.

The two teens continued to walk, pausing often so Duo could explain to Heero what certain things were and why they existed. Heero was very interested in everything Duo said, staring intently at whatever object was being explained with wide eyes. He was almost like a child, curious about how things worked and why. When they finally arrived at the fast food place Duo wanted to eat at, it was 7:45 and Duo had explained nearly everything in his neighborhood.

Duo ordered the food after telling Heero to find them a place to sit. Heero stared at his food for a moment, not touching it. Cautiously, he picked up the hamburger and took a small bite, brow knitted in concentration. His eyes widened the tiniest bit in surprise. Duo watched in amused semi-silence, munching on his own burger and fries. Suddenly he laughed, startling Heero.

"Man, I figure this is your first time eating a burger and fries, being from Japan and all, but you look so damn funny!"

Heero only glowered at the boy across from him and continued to eat his meal. Duo attempted to stifle his giggles, but didn't quite succeed. At length they left the fast food place, Duo still laughing and Heero still marveling over the wonders that day had shown him. When they arrived back at Duo's apartment, the braided teen flopped down on the couch and snatched up a small, black, rectangular object. Heero set the gad he was carrying down near the door, then wandered over to see what Duo was doing.

"OK, you have seen a TV before, haven't you?"

Heero thought back to the old, black-and-white one he had glimpsed in Japan that showed more static than actual programming. Duo's TV set was in much better condition than that set in Japan. No scratches marred the surface, nothing was broken off.

While Heero had been recalling the broken down television set, Duo had flipped his own set on, rapidly changing the channel until he found a program he liked. For the next half-hour the two watched various actors and actresses Heero had never hears of prance across the screen acting out the script. During commercial breaks, Duo would flip to another channel and another show, occasionally complaining about how all the commercials seemed to be on at the same time as another station. (Has that ever happened to anyone else?)

The shows seemed to vastly amuse Duo, although Heero failed to see why. The subject matter disinterested him, and as his sense of humor was significantly different from that of the average American, not many of the frequently made jokes made much sense. Eventually Heero gave up on pretending to be interested in watching the television shows. He ended up paying more attention to the boy on the couch than the small screen.

Duo was so energetic, laughing at the actors' actions or the corny script. He was constantly in motion, leaning close to the screen then falling back to lean against the backrest for a moment before straightening to yell at the TV. And all through it his eyes would be sparkling, bright amethysts that would give Heero his heart's desire along with the liquid rubies of the boy's blood.

"Yo, Heero, come help me get some sheets!"

Heero looked up. Duo had bounced off again, and was now disappearing into his room. Obediently, Heero followed. As soon as he stepped into the bedroom he was faced with a pile of walking sheets, Duo's braid swinging behind. The sheets were pushed into Heero's arms. He raised an eyebrow, peering around the tangle of cloth, when Duo picked up a pillow and ushered him back into the other room.

Together the two boys made a bed for Heero on the couch. It would have been faster if Duo hadn't insisted on helping, but Heero wanted to gain the other boy's trust as fast as possible. When the time was right, Heero would take action. He would finally kill the talkative boy, and get his wish. With just a small bit of Shinigami's blood, he could have it all.

At length the 'bed' was finished and Heero was left alone with his thoughts. He lay in the semi-darkness, staring up at the barely visible ceiling, thinking. How he wished he could kill Duo now, attain the keys to his wish, head back to Japan for the ceremony. But he couldn't.

Or could he? In a little while, Duo would be asleep. If Heero were careful, he could kill the braided baka now, while he slept. It would be messy, but there were very few methods of killing without contaminating the blood. Poison was out of the question. Drowning as well. Suffocation? Perhaps. Heero was partial to the gun, but even with a silencer, someone in the building would be sure to hear the shot. The walls weren't that thick.

Stabbing could work. If he was careful, he could cover Duo's mouth, muffle any cries. If the strike was swift and on target, the boy could die without waking. Heero had a small pocket knife that would do for the initial killing. He could sharpen the kitchen knife and use that for the beheading. He could take care of the mess later.

Heero slid out from under the sheet. He crept to Duo's closed door, pulling out his pocket knife as he did so. Gently he eased the door open, peering into the darkened room. It was darker than the living room. However, although the curtains were drawn, light from the street lamp outside entered the room through the cloth.

Heero paused just inside the room, allowing his eyes to adjust as much as they could. While waiting, he studied the sleeping form of his prey. Duo's dark clothes showed up very well against the pale sheets. In the faint light his skin appeared paler than usual, his face standing out among the darkness of his clothes and hair. The braid was still intact, but strands were coming loose from the base. Already he was fast asleep, pillow on the floor, sheets twisted around one leg.

Knowing his eyes couldn't adjust anymore, Heero stealthily moved forward. He grinned, eyes and blade glinting as he avoided the half glimpsed piles of clothes and music disks. He bent to rescue the pillow from the floor, keeping his movements soft and fluid. He stood for a moment, watching Duo sleep, allowing him to live a few more seconds.

He readied himself. He brought the pillow down on Duo's face, hoping to muffle any sounds the boy made should he wake. Gripping the handle of his knife tightly, Heero focused his gaze on Duo's shirt, right above his heart. He placed the shining blade against the boy's chest, preparing to rive it into the beating muscle beneath.

~ Tsuzuku ~

~A/N: Oooh, cliff-hanger. Heh, I'm working on the next part. Just curious, did any of you blink when it said someone blinked? It just happens to me all the time, so I wondered if it happened to anyone else too. Now you better review or I'll HUNT YOU DOWN! The consequences can and will be very unpleasant.


	4. Capturing the Key

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ Warning: AU, OOC-ness, Relena-bashing

~ Note: All reviews appreciated, and flames will be my inspiration for future fics. Remember the warning and REVIEW!

~ Demons are everywhere –even in me ~

~ Demon Blood: Capturing the Key ~

Duo inhaled though the pillow, his chest rising to press against the sliver blade. His shirt tore, the cold metal of the knife pushing against his pale skin, almost cutting it. Heero watched the boy's breathing, knife frozen in place.

It would be so easy, so simple. Just put pressure on the blade, bury the shining metal to the hilt. Duo wouldn't wake up. He could die quietly in this sleep, not knowing that he died until it was too late. He wouldn't scream in pain, alert the other people as to what was going on. Heero could kill the boy, get away with his head and blood, conduct the ceremony. By the time anyone found out that the braided teen was missing, it would be too late. Heero would have his wish.

So why the hell couldn't he force himself to kill the guy!? It made no sense. This is what he had to do. He had to, if he wanted his wish. And he did. He wanted it. He had to kill Duo.

"Iie," Heero's breath came out softly.

He found himself pulling the knife away, backing out to the door. He stumbled over a pile of clothes, caught himself, scrambled out the door. Casting one fleeting look over his shoulder, he was relieved to find that Duo hadn't woken. Heero closed the door, and lurched to the couch. Falling on it, he buried his face in his hands.

"Naze? Why the hell didn't I do it? What's wrong with me? It should have been so simple. Shove the knife into his chest, cut off his head, get away. Easy. I slit throats to get here; stabbing someone shouldn't have been any different. I should have…" Heero trailed off.

Raising his head, he reviewed what he had been about to do. If he had stabbed the boy, he would have plunged headfirst into a big mess. What would he have done with the body? Heero hadn't found a place he could bury it yet. The earlier walk around the city had proven that if he wanted to bury the body in a little trafficked place, he would have to go past the city limits. Strong though he was, Heero doubted if he could have lugged around a heavy corpse until he found a spot, dodging passerby. Then he would need to dig the grave. All this before dawn.

No, this was best. Heero was thankful for whatever it was that had stopped him from killing Duo just now. Maybe the Fates were trying to make up for being assholes before. Now however, he needed to think, plan what he would do.

He would need a quiet place, somewhere away from the city. He could go looking in the morning. Then, he would need a way to get Duo out to that place, preferably after dark. It was too bad that Duo wasn't a girl. If he were, then Heero could pretend to have taken a romantic interest in him and use that as an excuse to get him alone after dark.

That gave him an idea. He could use that girl, that Relena. Perhaps she would know of a secluded spot. It would make his job a little easier, although he would still need a way to get Duo to the place after dark. Simple enough. First he would need to get into contact with the annoying girl, and see if she knew of a place he could use.

Heero inwardly winced as he imagined Relena's response to his request. She would probably assume that he was looking for a place to take her. She would undoubtedly hang all over him, gushing on and on about how she felt about him. Well, let her think what she wanted. However, if that… girl… tried to kiss him, he couldn't guarantee that she would live much longer.

It was settled. Morning come, Heero would retrieve Relena's phone number from the trashcan, call her, and ask. If she knew of a place, good. If not, he could look on his own. Then, once he had thoroughly looked through the area, he could he could conceive a plan to bring Duo to the spot. And then the fun could begin.

That settled, Heero lay down, relaxing as much as he would allow himself to. He surrendered himself to sleep, knowing he would need his energy to face Relena. If she provoked him, he would not be able to hold himself back. She would die, slowly, by his hand. The corners of his mouth tipped up as he contemplated the various ways she could die. Poison? No, not painful enough. Ground glass in her digestive system? Perhaps…

~~~

Heero stood in a pay phone booth, scrap of paper in hand. He listened to the ringing, waiting for Relena to pick up. Just before he hung up, someone answered.

"Hello?" It was a soft, female voice. Not Relena's. Her mother?

"I need to speak to Relena."

"Whom may I ask is calling?" Heero could hear the frown in the lady's voice. He glowered at being forced to reveal information on himself to someone he didn't even know.

"Heero."

"Please hold on, Heero." Something was placed over the receiver, muffling the next words. "Relena! You have a call."

"Who is it?" Relena's voice sounded groggy, even over the phone. "I need my beauty sleep."

"It's someone named Heero."

"Heero! I knew it! I knew wouldn't be able to resist me for long!" Shuffling noises as the phone was switched to Relena's hand. "Heero! How are you? Let me see, I'm free in an hour, if you want to meet. I know just the place! There's this wonderful little café just down the street from your place. Let's meet there in an hour, shall we? Or I could cancel my appointment, and meet you now, if you want…"

"Hn. One hour is good."

Click

One hour. Heero couldn't believe he was meeting her in one hour. Was he completely out of his mind? Just from the phone call he could tell that the girl would be hanging all over him. And when he asked the question, she'd no doubt fully believe he planned to take her there soon.

Feh. He didn't even like girls. He didn't like people. They felt too much, were too easily hurt. Had any other person been forced to live his life, they'd have been dead from the beginning. No other person could have survived the pain, the hunger. Heero was strong, stronger than them all. He would triumph where others had failed. He would summon Shinigami.

And come out alive.

~~~

"Heero! I'm so sorry, my meeting ran late. I tried to get out of it, but no one would listen to a word I said! I'm so glad you called. We really need to do this more often."

Heero inwardly cringed as Relena's over-enthusiastic voice assaulted his ears. She sat down across from him, smiling and batting her eyelashes. Again she was dressed in pink. So much pink. Determined to keep this meeting as short as possible, Heero started right in. He didn't care about the consequences. He only wanted to get started with the preparations.

"Do you know a secluded, quiet place not too far from the city limits?"

Relena blinked, smiled even wider. "Of course Heero. My house is only a few minutes away, and-"

"No."

Relena blinked yet again before recovering her poise. "Oh, I understand. You want a more romantic spot without interruptions. Well, I know the perfect place. It's a bit far, but hardly anyone goes there anymore. I can show you right now, if you like. My car is just out front…"

Heero inwardly snorted. Romantic. Let the deluded girl think what she pleased, as long as the place was acceptable. He nodded, stood. He was so tense, but he couldn't make himself relax. As he climbed into Relena's pink limousine after her, Heero briefly gave into temptation. Keeping his face to the window and the passing scenery, he let his mind drift to more pleasing images.

Relena, ragged flesh hanging off her bones in strips. Relena, red blood dripping from a deep gash in her chest. Relena, cornflower blue eyes bulging as the hands around her slender throat tightened.

The boy almost sighed in pleasure as more horrific images of Relena flashed across his mind. Maybe he could kill her now. If this place was as perfect as she obviously thought it was, there should be little danger of anyone catching him in the act. The pocketknife was still in his jeans. It would work just fine for the murder weapon. Sure, the driver of this pink monstrosity would have to be disposed of as well, but that would be no problem. The old man could even be a tool in Relena's terror.

These were nice daydreams, but they were just that: daydreams. This girl was the daughter of someone important. Her disappearance would be noticed. People at the café would remember seeing the girl talking to him. He would have to hurry and kill Duo, get out of the country.

No. But perhaps, once Heero had made his wish, he could come back. He wouldn't have been gone too long. The girl would still remember him. He could lure her away, telling her family some bogus story about caring deeply for her. Then he could kill her.

Heero let these daydreams fade away as the limousine rolled to a stop. The driver opened the door. Relena was handed out, hauling Heero behind her. The road here was dirt, a stand of trees across an open expanse of grass. Relena tugged the boy toward the trees, all the while grinning like the idiot she was.

A slim path wound between the tree trunks. The two teens followed this path, Relena in the lead. The light was dim, having to filter down through the thick branches and leaves. Without warning they broke out of the trees, blinking in the bright light. They were in a small clearing, trees ringing three sides. The fourth side dropped off into a cliff.

Heero wandered over to the cliff and looked down. He hadn't realized they had gotten this high. Maybe once he had Duo's blood and head, he could toss the body over the cliff. No, he didn't know if anyone went down there. The dirt around the trees shouldn't be too hard to dig. He could bury the body there.

His eyes hardened in resolve. He would come up later, dig the grave, and figure a way to bring Duo to the place. Heero turned and walked back to the path, ignoring Relena. The girl was lounging back on a sun-drenched rock, head tilted back, eyes closed. She had crossed her legs, dress riding up to expose some skin. Heero almost rolled his eyes at her attempt, and failure, at being seductive.

"Heero! You're ready to go already?" The boy ignored her and kept walking. "But it's such a beautiful day, and the view here is exquisite. We should stay a while, talk. I want to know more about you, Heero. All about you."

Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, Heero continued walking. He felt Relena's presence behind him, persistent, irritating. The girl placed her hand lightly on Heero's arm, voicing her questions. He quelled the urge to strike her right then. Settling for shrugging Relena's hand off his arm, the boy did his best to block out her voice.

Silently the driver opened the door for the two teens. Heero peered intently out the window, memorizing the way to the cliff. It would have been easier to memorize the trip there. He cursed the weakness that allowed his mind to drift. But he had a good mind; he would flip the directions later.

It was a good 10 minutes of torture until they reached the city. Approximately double the time walking. He could use his silenced gun, one thing he was never without. No one would be able to hear the muffled shot and mess up his plans.

Heero asked to be let out at the same café he'd met Relena earlier. For a moment he almost suspected that the girl wouldn't let him out of the limousine. She clung to his arm, chattering on about how she had such a good time and how they really should meet the next day. Heero let out a neutral 'hn', although it was bordering on a negative grunt of displeasure.

Finally the girl let him go. He walked away without glancing back, although he could practically feel Relena's gaze on his back. Hands in pockets, Heero wondered how he would go about digging the grave. A shovel would be the easiest way, but where could he get one?

There were surely shops that sold shovels around here somewhere. He could buy one, or if it seemed a waste of money, he could shop lift it. Heero almost smirked. Going with Relena had other good points, aside from finding a potential gravesite. He'd managed to snag the coin purse from Relena's bag. That was the only good thing about her hanging all over him.

He entered a store, looking around until he found a bathroom. Locking himself in one of the stalls, he pulled out the purse. Swiftly counting, Heero found roughly $150 in varying denominations. Perfect. He could buy the shovel, trek back up to the cliff. It was only around lunchtime. He had plenty of time to dig and concoct a way to get Duo to the area.

Exiting the store, Heero wandered the streets until he found a likely place. His judgment proved accurate, and within the next few minutes he had his shovel. Clutching the package to his side, the boy made his way back to the cliff. Easily he reversed the directions in his mind, and successfully made it to the clearing.

Placing the shovel under a tree, he carefully surveyed the area. No new footprints were found. Indeed, the only footprints were his and Relena's from earlier. There was no sign that anyone else had been here at all, nor any indication that someone would venture up here any time soon.

Heero began to dig. Numerous tree roots hindered his progress, but he continued. It didn't need to be perfect. The one who rested here wouldn't care. He'd be dead. Heero continued digging until he was satisfied that he could fit the headless body in the grave without trouble.

But there would be no body if he couldn't get the violet-eyed teen up here. Heero could say he found something he wanted to show Duo, that it was a surprise. It was a rather pathetic excuse, but it should work. Besides, it was the truth, in a twisted way. Heero needed to bring the other boy to this place to show him his true intentions. It was sure to be a surprise for the braided boy, seeing his new 'friend' aiming his silenced gun, pulling the trigger…

He wouldn't hesitate. He couldn't afford to. Duo would be awake and alert, unlike last time. If Heero messed up this chance, that was it. Duo would most likely call the police, have him arrested for assault. Heero would never get the boy's eyes or blood, never get his wish. He had to succeed. Failure was not an option.

His mouth tipped up. If he needed to, he'd knock Duo unconscious late at night, and drag the boy here!

A swift glance at the sky showed just how long he had been here. Replacing the shovel in the protective bag, he laid the plastic clad shovel near the empty grave. Heero vaguely brushed at the dirt coating his pants. Most of it crumbled off, but he knew there was still dirt embedded in the cloth. No one should notice it though.

On the way back down, Heero thought of the past events. He was so close. The grave was almost done; he could get Duo to the cliff. No need to stay here any longer than need be. Duo was incredibly trusting, the poor fool. He would be so surprised when he saw Heero coming to kill him…

If only that Relena wouldn't interfere. She seemed to think that Heero… liked her, and wanted to do something with her up there. Oh he would do something with her all right. If she came up there and saw the body, he'd kill her. It would seem suspicious, but he'd be long gone by the time the authorities figured out who he was. Heero was a master hacker and could cover his trail very nicely. How do you think he got enough money to get to America in the first place?

Money… Duo was looking for a job for him, so he could earn some money. Well, he didn't need the cash badly. If he killed Duo quickly, there would be no need for it. He already he had the money for the plane ticket, and when Duo was dead he wouldn't care if Heero didn't pay him back for the clothes. Besides, the fewer people who knew he was here, the better his chances were of no one noticing his disappearance after Duo's death.

Heero rode alone in the elevator, wondering if the other boy was back yet. Duo had classes, but they had been let out a few hours ago. However, there was no telling when the braided teen would find his way back to the apartment. Heero didn't have a key, and couldn't pick the lock without raising Duo's suspicions.

Luckily, Duo was inside the apartment and heard the knocking. He opened the door without warning, babbling about how he really should pick up another key for his temporary roomie. Heero ignored the words, finding Duo's lower voice much easier on his ears then Relena's high whining. It was no wonder Duo had griped about being partners with her that first day.

Kuso. Duo was still in school. Teachers and students would definitely notice the absence of the talkative boy. He had to be either incredibly popular or incredibly unpopular, due to his talking. Heero suspected the former was the case. Duo's perpetual good mood was no doubt appealing, coupled with his ever-present smile… Either way it would be hard not to notice the loud-mouthed teen. This complicated matters a bit.

Waiting until school was let out in two weeks would probably be the best idea. That way only the friends would notice that Duo wasn't around. It was unlikely that any of them would call the police for quite a while. They would call the apartment, visit it, and then, when they repeatedly received no answer, they would notify others.

Heero doubted he should convince Duo to tell his friends he was going on a trip. That avenue would only cause more complications. Even if the violet-eyed teen held his friends he was leaving on a trip, those friends would want to know when he's be leaving, where he'd be going, when he'd be returning.

There was no reason for him to have to move to another place. Duo had no parents to force him to leave, and he seemed quite contented to stay here. If he did want to relocate, there was the problem of money. Duo had even said himself that he was poor, and his bank account only confirmed that fact.

Unless he would figure out an explanation for Duo's permanent disappearance, Heero could only hope that no one called the authorities until he was safely back in Japan.

~~~

Waiting was so hard. He didn't think it could ever be so difficult to restrain himself. After all, he'd been able to wait all the years it had taken to locate the violet-eyed boy. And when he had been found, Heero had been able to hold himself back, despite the opportunities he had been presented to kill the other boy prematurely.

Yet, it was still so difficult to bide his time. Living in the same, small apartment as his target didn't help matters in the least. Duo was just too secure with him. Admittedly, one of Heero's goals was to get the other boy to be comfortable in his presence, but it was so damn tempting to kill him now.

He needed to get out and away from that apartment. Duo's habit of returning to his home at any given time was not a good one, at least not for Heero. He couldn't let down his guard around the boy; the consequences would not work toward his goal.

So, Heero found himself more and more often returning to the cliff. He would take the main road, knowing that darting through back alleys and such would make him more noticeable. He never looked at anyone in the face, and never took the same route twice.

He spent the days up on the cliff, looking down into the gorge or staring at the sky. More often though, he would work at the grave or contemplate his plan. It was a way to spend the time, even if it didn't help get his mind off the murder. Yes, it only made him think more about it, but that couldn't truly be helped. Even when he simply sat and looked around, his mind would turn to Duo's death and the summoning of Shinigami. Heero had almost no respite from those thoughts.

Sleep was just about the only time his mind was detracted from thoughts of his lifelong goal. Or perhaps not. Heero knew he had to dream, although he remembered none of it when he awoke. So perhaps he dreamed of Duo's death and the completion of his mission.

It didn't matter. Dreams were irrelevant. They held nothing over his daily actions and thoughts. Indeed, from what he'd been able to gather, dreams were based on a person's actions and thoughts of the day.

Reviewing his plans, Heero realized he still didn't have anything to cut off Duo's head. The pocketknife was insufficiently. He'd read the reports of murder victims being hacked up by a shovel, but that method was imprecise, messy. He needed a sharp blade, one small enough that he had control over it, yet thick enough that the metal would break when it encountered bone.

That kitchen knife would do the job if it weren't so dull. It shouldn't be too hard to locate and purchase a sharpener. Or perhaps Duo already had one somewhere in his apartment. The place was so messy and filled with stuff that he'd never miss it for one day, and it would give Heero something to do during the day.

He'd start looking tomorrow. Considering how cluttered Duo's home was, the search could take quite a while to complete. But if successful, it might just same Heero some trouble later on. It would not be good if someone connected his purchase of the shovel and the knife or sharpener with the murder of Duo Maxwell.

~~~

Two days into his search and still he hadn't found anything that could work. Annoyed at the mess, Heero had begun attempting to clean the space he'd just searched. It wasn't exactly what you could call clean, but it was better than before. He'd started in the kitchen cupboards, based on what logic told him.

Two days and he was still on the damn cupboards. True, there was a ton of junk Duo had undoubtedly placed in there and forgotten, but it was all useless. A few pots and pans, some broken, some dented. Many spider webs and much dust. Hell, he'd even found one of the violet-eyed boy's CD's and a stained T-shirt! Heero didn't even bother to wonder why Duo had placed such objects in a kitchen cabinet.

Reaching into the last of the cabinets, the boy was startled by the opening of the door. Habit forced him to turn and drop into a defensive position.

"Woah! It's me, the guy who pays rent, remember?" Duo grinned as Heero relaxed. "So, I noticed ya were inta a cleanin thing…"

"Hn." Heero ignored the unspoken question and handed the other boy the music disk and shirt.

"Hey! I been looking for this CD! Thanks man! Where was it?" Heero pointed to a cabinet. "Oh, that's right. Musta put it up there when I was changing CD's. hey, you find a text book anywhere don't dump it. If it isn't too beat up I might be able ta sell it ta one a the new kids." With that, Duo walked off, and a moment later music pulsed though the apartment.

Mentally blocking out the sound, Heero turned back to his search. He'd gotten though the last of the cabinets and was working on the counter when the music shut off and Duo came bouncing back into the small kitchenette.

"Yanno, I've been meaning to ask. Whaddya do all day?"

Heero blinked at the unexpected question. Keeping with his friendly act, he replied, "Wander around, think. I've never been in a place like this before, remember?"

"True. Speaking of that, why are you here? You can't be much older n me."

"I'm 16. I hated the conditions in which I had to live, so I found work where I could and saved up. One of my employers talked about how much better America was, so I came here. Spent most of my savings on the plane ticket." Taking a breath after that unusually long monologue, Heero watched Duo's expression.

Apparently he bought the explanation. "Wow. What bout your parents?"

"Dead."

"Oh. Never knew mine. Sorry bout being so nosy. Ask me some questions bout my past to even things out."

Heero remained silent. What could Duo tell him that he didn't know? He already knew the basics, the things that were necessary for the completion of his mission.

Taking Heero's silence for indecision, Duo began talking again. "Well, since you seem tongue-tied, I guess you'll just have to listen to me ramble on about myself until I feel like I've made up for my nosiness. Lessee, like I said, I never knew my parents. They dumped me off on a church. One of the sisters introduced me to fluffernutter sandwiches –yum. You get just the right amount of marshmallows, melt em on high for…"

Duo continued babbling about how to make the perfect fluffernutter sandwich. Heero feigned interest for a while, not really caring about the joys of eating those sandwiches for three weeks straight. He glanced at the clock. Duo noticed his look and laughed. He darted around Heero, saying something about making them some of those delicious sandwiches for dinner. If only he could find the bread… and the microwave…

The experience with the fluffernutters was a disastrous one. Duo put too much filling in the sandwiches, and the thick paste covered everything. It left a sticky residue, one Heero feared might stay with him until his body rotted in the ground.

Both boys were in desperate need of a shower that night.

~~~

Finally! A whole week after initiating the search, Heero found another knife. Slightly dull, but it would work. There was nothing he could use to sharpen it, at least not in the kitchenette or the living room. Heero was not about to search Duo's room.

The violet-eyed boy might not have been pleased with him for sifting thought the things in that room. Besides, the majority of the mess was concentrated in there. It would take another week just to look through the things burying the floor.

Besides finding a suitable weapon and some of the permanent fixtures, Heero's search kept him busy during the last few weeks of Duo's school year. The braided teen had undoubtedly forgotten the knife's existence, and thus didn't miss it. Stressing over finals kept the boy busy, even if he engaged in minimal studying.

One day, after Duo had left for classes, Heero packed a few things in a brown satchel rescued from under the couch. The knife, a small covered bottle filched from the kitchenette, and a change of clothes. Hopefully the small bottle would be large enough to contain enough blood to satisfy Shinigami. He would need the clothes after disposing his current ones, which would be covered with Duo's blood.

Shortly thereafter, classes ended. This was what Heero had been anticipating, perhaps even more so than Duo. As it was, Duo was bouncing around the apartment, excited that he was finally on break. And now that school was out, Heero was so much closer to the actual murder. However, it would be wise to wait a little longer, let the excitement die down a bit.

While Heero was glad for the end of classes, he was also annoyed. Now Duo slept in, waking around noon. Just the knowledge that the violet-eyed boy was sleeping in his room, unsuspecting, unprotected, tempted Heero. It would be so simple to kill him now. But he had to stick to his plan. Only a few more days.

Usually, in the afternoons, Duo would leave for an outing with his friends. He always asked Heero to join him, and always Heero would decline. It wasn't safe. The friends might remember him, cause trouble later on.

Observing Duo's social calendar, Heero realized that the outings weren't going to abate. He couldn't wait forever. Approaching Duo after dinner, Heero took the plunge.

"Duo? I'd like to show you something. It's about 20 minutes walking or so."

"Huh? Oh, cool. Sure, when we gonna go?"

Heero glanced at the window. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and should set within the hour. If they went now, there should still be enough light to walk to the cliff before it got dark. Good.

"Now?"

Duo considered it, glancing at the clock and then the window. "Sure. Jus lemme grab a flashlight."

Waiting with his back to the door, Heero fingered the butt of the gun nestled at the small of his back. It was his silenced gun, the one he would use to kill Duo. The knife was still at the cliff hidden with the shovel in the trees. And the grave was ready, out of sight from the path and clearing, waiting for Duo's corpse.

Hero lowered his hand as the other boy came into sight. He had his jacket slung over one shoulder, a flashlight sticking out of his pocket. Duo's snatched up the keys as Heero opened the door. The braided boy didn't stop talking even after leaving the city.

The light was till bright as the two began walking up the cliff. Heero was silent, as usual, allowing his companion to fill the silence. He refrained from reaching back to touch the gun. Only a little longer. Soon they would be at the top, soon he could use the gun, soon Duo's head and blood would be his.

Seeing the stand of trees up ahead, Heero quickened his pace. The light was dim, blocked by the trees. He guided Duo to the path. Catching a glimpse of sunlight, Duo ventured out in front of Heero. He ran into the clearing on the other side of the trees, then froze.

Heero came out behind the other teen and stood with him while he stared out at the cliff side. It faced west, providing a spectacular view of the sunset. Duo stood, transfixed, as the sun slowly sank in the sky. The colors were beautiful, clouds and sky alight with the brilliance of the sun.

Duo watched, silent for once, until all traces of the reds, oranges, pinks and yellows were engulfed by the dark blue of night. The stars blazed clear, so much brighter than in the city. After watching the sky a while longer, Duo spoke.

"Wow, that was beautiful. How'd you know the view would be so great? You're always at the apartment at sunset."

"The cliff faces west. I assumed the sunset would be nice." Heero kept his gaze on Duo's face.

"It was. And there's so many stars. I like it up here. It's so isolated, and peaceful."

"I'm glad you like it." He turned his face up to watch the stars with empty eyes. "I wouldn't want you to die in a place you didn't like."

"What!?"

Duo whipped around to face Heero. Heero continued to stare at the sky. Glancing sideways at the other boy, he smirked at the wide-eyed expression on Duo's face. Seeing the curving of lips, Duo relaxed, his own mouth tipping up in a relieved smile. Guessing that the braided teen assumed he was joking, Heero reached for his gun. 

The relieved expression vanished as Duo caught sight of the gun. It was replaced by uncertainty, nervousness, tinged by fear.

Pain contorted Duo's face as the bullet ripped into his thigh. His face barely registered the shock before a second bullet hit his other leg. Duo dropped to the ground, unable to support his weight on his injured legs.

Heero watched the pool of blood spread, soaking the grass and earth beneath. He watched the blood with an almost hungry expression on his face, eyes wide, fingers twitching as though they could already feel the heavy weight of the decapitated head as he offered it to Shinigami. The precious liquid was pouring out of Duo, taking his life with it, bit by bit, bringing Heero ever closer to accomplishing his goal.

Walking closer to the fallen boy, he watched with satisfaction as the boy's valuable eyes widened, fear and pain shining in their depths. He played with the gun, metal gleaming in the light cast by the rising moon. Squatting next to the braided teen, Heero peered into Duo's wide eyes, ignoring the blood pumping from the boy's wounds.

"Why are you doing this?" Insetad of the trembling voice of the scared victim, Duo's voice was strong, unwavering, demanding an answer.

Swallowing his surprise at the strength in his target's words, Heero replied simply, "Because I need to."

He stood, walked away. There was no way Duo would be able to crawl fast enough to escape. Secure in this knowledge, Heero took his time retrieving the covered vial and knife from his satchel. Shoving both the gun and the knife into a pocket, the boy removed the lid from the bottle as he walked back to his victim.

Freeing the knife, Heero placed it against the other boy's stomach. Duo didn't attempt to evade the bit of metal, remaining still even as the tip pierced the fabric covering his body and touched flesh. Never removing his gaze from Duo's eyes, Heero plunged the blade into the boy's stomach.

Duo made a small sound of pain and braced himself against the ground. Heero frowned minutely, giving the knife embedded in the boy's stomach a violent twist. Blood spurted from the gash, coating Heero's hand, dotting his arm, spattering his clothes.

Dropping the knife into the pool of blood, Heero propped up the other boy with one hand. Shoving the vial up against the torn flesh of his stomach, he watched it fill rapidly with the red liquid. Once it was full, Heero dropped his burden back to the ground, not bothering to cushion his landing.

He covered the bottle, pausing to admire the dark fluid in the now bright moonlight. The glass was coated with slick blood, as was the hand that held it. Carefully he wiped his fingers and the vial on Duo's shirt, cleaning the blood from them.

Heero secured the bottle in his satchel, then made his way back to the bleeding teen. He wasn't quite dying yet, but would soon be. Duo's breathing was shallow, the blow of blood slowing just the tiniest bit.

"I was never your friend. I'm no one's friend." With that cryptic statement, Heero sliced open Duo's throat.

A loud gasp came from the trail.

Heero whirled, blood flying from the knife clenching tightly in his fist. He charged toward the trail. The person screamed, a high-pitched sound, and ran into the trees, away from the path. Heero gave chase.

Terror stricken, the girl lost all sense of direction, making sharp turns, skirts almost tripping her up. She skidded to a stop when confronted with the cliff. She ran left, toward the clearing, Heero right behind her. She screamed, sighting the corpse of Duo Maxwell lying on the grass. Whirling she sent hair and skirts flying, the moonlight hitting her full on the face.

Relena.

~ Tsuzuku ~

A/N: Ah, you knew it was Relena, didn't you?


	5. The Ceremony

~ All standard disclaimers apply

~ Warning: See DB-Legend

~ Demon Blood: The Ceremony ~

Heero spun the girl around, left arm pinning her arms to her sides, bloody knife pressed against her neck. He had barely registered the fact that this was someone he knew, someone who knew him. Relena was crying out in terror, not bothering to struggle for fear of cutting herself.

"Quiet." Heero's voice was harsh as he forced the word out. "Was your driver waiting on the road?"

Tentatively, Relena responded. "N-no. I told him I'd call when I wanted to be picked up. I had no idea…"

"How far away was the car before you entered the clearing?"

"I w-waited until it was out of- out of sight."

"What did you hear?"

Relena hesitated, but burst into scared stuttering when she was forcefully reminded of the blade's presence at her throat. "N-nothing! I s-swear it! I heard nothing! I'm telling the truth!"

Heero tossed the girl away from him. She landed on the wet earth next to Duo's still body. Relena whimpered, edged away from the body. At Heero's glare she froze. He had no sure means of keeping the girl quiet, but a few well-worded threats would work.

Eyes landing on Relena's purse, Heero frowned. Reaching down, he snatched it from her grasp. Placing the knife well out of the girl's reach, he rifled through the bag, his hand closed around the slim form of a cell phone. Dropping the purse, he examined the phone, them pulled out the battery pack. This he pocketed, them wiped off the rest of the phone. Using his shirt so as not to get his fingerprints on anything more than needed, he replaced the cell in the purse.

Relena watched, fearful eyes wide as Heero retrieved his knife. He fingered the blade, not caring that the blood stained his fingers. Gazing dispassionately at the live form on the ground, the boy appeared thoughtful.

Leaning over, Heero hit a pressure point in Relena's neck. The girl slumped to the ground, unconscious. Sure that she wouldn't wake, he turned back to the unfinished task of beheading Duo's corpse.

He gripped a handful of the long hair, using it to tilt the body's head back. The knife cut into the tender skin, more blood oozing out of the fresh wound. Heero drew the blade along the dead flesh, severing muscles, nerves, more veins. The knife hit hard bone. The boy maneuvered the blade until it slid into the space between disks, ripping though the cartilage there.

Head separated from body, hung in the air by a handful of chestnut hair.

The knife wasn't the best tool; the cut was ragged, extremely messy. Balancing the head right side up against a rock, Heero attempted to let the blood drain from it. Reaching to the corpse, Heero wiped the blood from the knife before sticking it in a pocket. He then dragged the now headless body into the trees, depositing it in the waiting grave. He had judged well. The corpse fit nicely into the hole without any need for shoving. Heero left it unburied, shovel resting beside the pile of dirt.

He walked back to the clearing, stopping above the still girl. He kicked her, pain bringing her mind back to the conscious world. The boy watched silently as Relena opened her eyes, groaning. When she caught sight of the shadowed form standing over her, she opened her mouth to scream.

In a flash Heero had the knife to her throat and was whispering in her ear.

"One sound and before the sun rises you'll be begging me to kill you."

Relena shut her mouth, lay trembling on the wet grass. Heero smirked, the quirk of his mouth invisible to the girl below him. He flicked the knife as he drew it away, drawing a small cut along Relena's throat. She gasped as a tiny spot of blood appeared, dark against her pale skin.

Heero looked to the sky, estimating how long he had until his midnight flight. He wouldn't torture her; he had to make sure she stayed quiet. Narrowing his eyes, the boy wiped the handle of the knife. This had to be as real as possible.

He walked around the cowering form of Relena, stopping at her back. Carefully he shoved the knife into the girl's fingers, covering them with his own T-shirt clad hands. She would kill herself, spill her own blood. She would cry as she felt the knife enter her flesh, gripped by her own hand.

With a quick jerk Heero slashed a line across the girl's arm. She cried out at the pain, attempted to pull away from the boy at her back. He positioned the tip of the knife directly in Relena's line of vision, forcing her to stop moving. His body firmly planted behind her destroyed any notion she had of inching back away from the blade.

Moving slowly, the boy brought the knife down, the bloodied tip cutting the air scant millimeters above his captive's face. It passed above her nose, lips, chin. He paused at the juncture between throat and chin, allowing the steel to brush against Relena's unprotected flesh.

Automatically she pulled back, hoping to elude the ripping of skin. The knife followed, cold steel dancing against overheated flesh. The terrified girl's breathing came in shallow pants, the blade pressing deeper with each inhalation.

Heero twisted the knife, felt the blade rip into flesh, a scream of pain and fear welling up in Relena's throat. He turned the weapon back to the girl's neck, the scream emerging stillborn, exchanged for a high whimper and uncontrolled trembling. Her hand fell limply to rest in her lap, spewing dark blood from the severed arteries and veins.

Deep, shuddering breaths sounded in the still of the clearing. Heero was thoughtful, gently tapping the blade against his captive's quivering throat. He drew the knife away, but kept his hands firmly wrapped around Relena's own. She sighed in relief, rigid shoulders abruptly relaxing.

She didn't see Heero's smirk.

With a quick, decisive jerk, the blade tore through the soft flesh at the girl's throat. Blood shot from her body in a dark red waterfall, glistening in the bright moonlight. She choked, her bleeding arm rising up to be bathed in the dark cascade.

Heero released the girl, walking around to view his accomplishment from the front. What a splendid image it was: Relena doubled over on the blood soaked grass, life's fluid gushing from her arm and neck like a fountain. Her pain-filled eyes searched for Heero, saw him standing a few feet away, eyes glinting in the moonlight, lips slightly tilted. Then he walked away.

Heero strode to his satchel hidden in the trees. Pulling out a plastic bag and a sealed jar of liquid, he headed back to the clearing. He walked to the head, pausing only once to look at Relena. The girl was still alive; she hadn't lost enough blood yet. But Duo was dead, the blood seeped from his head. Heero shoved the head into his plastic bag, unceremoniously dumping the bloody plait on top.

Relena watched with glazed eyes as he opened the jar and the smell of herbs plus something she couldn't place drifted over. The girl didn't know it, but Heero had made this potion a while ago in preparation for this night. It should keep the head from rotting, the eyes from clouding. The translucent green liquid was poured over the head, massaged into the dead skin.

After securing the bagged head in his satchel, the boy stripped. Carefully he wiped any traces of blood from his form. The bloodied clothes were tossed in the grave with Duo's headless body, then buried. He would have liked to burn both the cloth and the corpse, but that couldn't be helped.

Dirt was piled in the grave, packed tight. Heero replaced the shovel in its own bag, the hid it beneath a pile of leaves a fair way from the path. A swift glance at the moonlit clearing showed that he had best move quickly. He had yet to buy the plane ticket. Heero dressed quickly, then headed for the road, ignoring the bleeding body in the clearing. The boy was pleased with his progress. The most difficult barriers had been knocked down. He could see the end of the path.

At the end he would get his wish. That was the thought that had kept him going all these years, even when it seemed impossible to accomplish his goal. And now the day approached when his wish would be granted. But he would get only one. He couldn't waste it on something so trivial as bringing an old playmate back to life. Granted, that wish was what he had in mind when he began his quest, but not any more.

After years of being alone, Heero Yui realized he needed no one. He needed none of this friendship that other humans seemed to whither without. No, what he wanted wasn't friendship. He wanted power.

Power was something he'd never really had in his life. It was always someone else, something else that had held the reins. In the beginning it was the woman with stringy hair and small eyes. Then, even after he rose up from under her rule, he was not in power. The search for a violet-eyed being ruled his existence.

But no longer. He'd found his violet-eyed human, the bargaining tool for his wish. When he summoned Shinigami he would have that power. Not only in his own life, but in others' as well. He'd finally have control.

~~~ End Memory Sequence ~~~

Heero stood late afternoon sunlight streaming though the doorway behind him. The wooden walls of the room were rotting and there was a pile of rubble in the center of the small area from when the ceiling had collapsed. In the far corner, relatively safe from the elements, was a small makeshift shrine. A crude statuette of an unrecognizable deity balanced precariously atop a small table leaning haphazardly to one side. Behind the crumbling stone was a lumpy, plastic covered bundle.

Without hesitation Heero skirted the remains of the fallen roof and hurried to the table. He reached behind the statuette and removed the plastic wrapped bundle, careful not to touch the stone deity. Flinging aside the dirty plastic cover, Heero was relieved to find the candles and matches beneath relatively dry. He had placed them there long ago, shortly after he had first discovered the shack. Now he was finally going to use them.

Heero eased his satchel to the floor, checked to make certain its contents were safe. Reassured he lay down, excitement and lack of sleep catching up to him. He had a few more hours until it was time to begin the ceremony. Heero curled up around the satchel, candles and matches. He knew he should rest, could even feel the pull of sleep, but excitement forced sleep away. In just a few hours he would summon Shinigami and gain the power he'd always wanted. Cobalt eyes closed as the boy forced himself to sleep.

When he awoke, the small shrine was dark, not even starlight shining thought the gaping hole in the ceiling. Heero felt for a candle and the matches he knew were in front of him. Searching fingers grasped the waxy stub of a candle and set it upright on the dirt floor. The flickering glow of the lit match was enough to illuminate only a small patch of the gloom. When the candle was lit the darkness lessened only the tiniest bit. Using what little light was available to him, Heero found the other stubby candles and moved with them to the rickety table.

The candles were arranged around the stone statuette and lit with the first candle, the match having been dropped to the dirt. Once all the candles were lit, Heero pulled his satchel closer to the flickering light of the candles. Almost reverently he lifted Duo's plastic covered head from the brown material. The plastic bag was removed slowly, the pungent smell of herbs and something else filling the air. Duo's braid tumbled free, hitting the dirt with a soft thud.

For a moment, Heero gazed at the head in his hands. It still held the same expression of fear and surprise. The eyes were empty, but unclouded. The herbal potion had worked. He was blind to the fact that it was a disgusting sight. In his eyes, it was a tool he would use to reach his ultimate goal. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that this was a human head in his hands, a head he had taken from a person he had killed himself. Even the fact that he was now a murderer, twice over, hadn't quite sunk in yet. He was aware of it, but he didn't seem to understand the implications.

Gently Heero placed the head on its side, not quite trusting the shaky table to support its weight. The quick hacking job had severed the head from the rest of Duo's body, but had failed to allow the head to stand on its own. When placed on its stub of a neck, the head tipped, landing hard on its face. Next he pulled the vial of blood from the satchel. He held it up, admiring the rich color. A deep ruby, it gleamed in the candle light, sloshing gently in its glass cage.

The boy set the vial on the table, hand ready to steady it should the table rock. When the table held, Heero looked down to grab the head. Just as he was about to grab it he blinked, taking an involuntary step back. A chill shot down his back.

The head was smiling at him.

Waxy, blue-gray lips curved up in an empty imitation of the bright smiles that had crossed them, the drying skin wrinkling, stretching, and cracking open. The sunk-in cheeks filled out a little as the dead muscles contracted. And the eyes. Oh damn, those eyes.

They were empty. They had sunk so far back into the head they should have been invisible in the dim candlelight. But they weren't. Heero could see them, glowing with the light stolen from the candles. And he could see himself in them, a small figure, flickering light illuminating half his face. Eyes huge in his head he backed away even further. He finally realized how disgusting it was. The memory of the past week almost made him retch. He had carried that head with him, touched it with bare skin, even valued it more than his life.

Suddenly the soft noises of the night forest outside tripled in volume. The call of nocturnal predators seemed to shriek for his death. Rustlings of the underbrush as animals moved became the sound of Heero's approaching demise. He fancied he heard footsteps thudding on the packed dirt, coming ever closer. He looked fearfully at the open doorway behind him. But no. He was just… startled… by his realization about the head. Heero would never admit to being frightened. He forced himself to look back to the head, to reach for it, to touch it…

He paused confused. Wasn't the head smiling a moment ago…? No. It must have been his imagination and the flickering light. He was tired still, and imagining things. The head couldn't have been smiling. It had always been blank, dead. Heero reached for it, grasping it with his fingertips. He focused his eyes a little above it, finding that he was unable to look straight at it.

Forcing himself not to think of what he was holding, the boy turned to face the table. He regained control and the sounds of the night returned to normal. He would summon Shinigami and have his wish yet! But now, at this crucial time, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do. Heero's mind drew a blank as to how to summon the god of death. His control over himself began to slip as he wondered what to do. He didn't notice the faint smell of decay seeping into the tiny room.

A deathly cold hand dropped onto his shoulder. Heero froze, paralyzed with fear for the first time in his life. He could smell the death behind him, reeking of blackness and gloom. Suddenly, he knew what was behind him. Duo's head slipped from his slack fingers and thudded to the dirt. He watched in mute terror as the headless corpse of Duo Maxwell walked forward and into the pale light of the candles. Absently Heero noted that this zombie didn't walk with the slow, shuffling steps of the zombies in Duo's horror movies. This living corpse strode forward with the sureness of someone alive and determined. Heero though he saw a darkening of the air around both the body and the head, with a faint purple shimmer leading from the stubby neck attached to the head to the shoulders of the cadaver. He dismissed it as hallucination.

As the body bent for the head, Heero realized what shape the cadaver was in. The previously white shirt was encrusted with black blood. Both the shirt and the pants were dirt-stained and extremely ragged, as though the corpse had trekked the entire way from America to this Japanese hillside. As it turned, Heero saw the bullet hole in the corpse's stomach and glimpsed a few maggots moving around. In some places the blue-gray flesh was so decayed that the boy was able to see the organs and bone beyond. Maggots wriggled, eating away at their moving home.

When the cadaver turned to face him completely, Heero's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the head supported by dead hands. It was smiling again, eyes still flat and empty. It mouthed words at him, but he was too dazed to read its waxy lips. He watched in silence, eyes wide, panic welling up inside of him. He had killed Duo! Shot him, hacked off his head, buried the body where none would ever find it! So how the hell could Duo's headless body be standing before him, holding its own head!?

This couldn't be happening. It was impossible. It had to be a nightmare, born of his anxiety over the ceremony. None of this was real…but somehow Heero knew this was no dream. He had never had a dream yet where everything looked identical to the real world, save for one detail that couldn't be possible. Besides, the smell of dead and decomposing flesh was too strong, too real for this to be a dream.

Heero took a shallow breath, then swallowed tentatively. The corpse moved to balance its head with one hand and Heero felt the contents of his stomach rise. They lifted until they could do so no more, then forced their way out onto the floor. Duo's cadaver stepped back and watched as the boy puked until he dry heaved.

Prussian eyes lifted in time to see the boy place its head on its own shoulders. His stomach itself threatened to come up his esophagus, but Heero forced it down. He stared at the now complete corpse before him. It sighed and shifted its weight onto the other leg.

"I said, where's the blood." At Heero's bewildered expression, Duo's zombie elaborated. "The blood you took from me when you killed me, where is it."

After a moment the boy pointed silently to the table. The cadaver spotted the vial of stolen blood and grinned. It uncapped the bottle then downed the contents in one draught. Slowly the air around it darkened and became almost tangible. The cadaver dropped the vial to the ground. It didn't seem to notice the shards of glass that pierced its flesh. 

"Masaka. This can't be happening. I killed Duo, I know I did!" Heero whispered under his breath, over and over as if those few words could somehow make it true.

"You humans are so hypocritical." Heero's head snapped up at the sound of Duo's voice. "You say you want something, but when you get it you wanna run away from it. I so don't get you."

Heero rose shakily to his feel. "You're not Duo. You can't be! I killed him! I saw him die! You… you…"

"You're right, Heero. I'm not Duo Maxwell, never was. I was just using up some vacation time when you met me. But you know who I am, even if you don't believe it." Violet eyes, dead no longer, held Heero's blue ones, wresting the truth from him.

"Shi-Shinigami?"

"Duh. By the way, the old bat made up that story, y'know, the one that says my eyes were gouged out by humans. Congrats, you're the first human ever to seriously hurt me. Course, I didn't think you'd actually do it…ah well, no matter. Can't kill what's already dead, ne?" He paused. When he spoke again his voice was thoughtful, almost wistful. "Y'know, it is kinda nice to know that you wanted something from me, even though you tried to kill me. Not many people've even heard of me in this age. Anyway, I can't let you go for beheading me. Too risky, y'know? The others wouldn't like it. Not to mention I'm royally pissed off. That whole dying shit hurts like a bitch. Ya gotta pay for that pal, and it ain't gonna be cheap."

Heero was still mentally reeling. He had been living with Shinigami and he hadn't even known it! He felt like an idiot. He should have known. Somehow, he should have known. Heero barely realized that the god was stepping forward until they were almost nose to nose. The boy started and stepped back, the smell of Death choking him. Shinigami halted his movements, grinning in anticipation. He spoke, and Heero smelled the herbal potion he'd used to prevent decay.

Shinigami wrapped his arms around the young mortal before him, bringing them together. Heero was himself unable to get enough air to struggle, the scent of Death was so powerful. He could feel the maggots crawling onto him, biting him, eating him alive. Maggots emerged from every crevice of Shinigami's body to surge onto Heero's. They attacked with a passion, devouring the living flesh as if possessed. The God of Death continued to hold the boy close until Heero looked to be little more than a wriggling tower of white worm-like bodies. Then Shinigami stepped back, letting Heero stand on his own.

Heero's blue eyes stared at the god, his gaze never wavering even as the maggots bit deep into his flesh. Not once did he cry out, even when the larvae began to gnaw on bone. The boy's knees gave out and he collapsed, squishing a few maggots under his weight. And still he peered up at Shinigami though the mass of fat bodies. If this piercing, bright blue gaze unnerved the god, nothing about him revealed it. Shinigami remained composed, face like carved marble for all the expression it showed. He didn't move even as Heero fell prostrate on the dirt floor. The maggots continued to feast, growing fatter still on the warm blood of their meal.

Only when Heero was on the brink of death did the god step forward. He knelt by the boy's side and flipped him over. More maggots were crushed, but neither noticed, or cared. Shinigami brushed the larvae from the pale face. He then used his nails to cut into the flesh on the inside of his own wrist. Blood welled up, dark and red and much thicker than the blood of the fake Duo Maxwell. Heero watched with pain dazed eyes as he was lifted into a sitting position. His eyes slid closed, blocking the sight of the shadowed god above him. Somwthing chill pressed against his ruined lips.

It stung, but Heero was too weak to manage much more than a soft whine. Cold, thick blood oozed into his mouth, choking him worse than the dead smell of Shinigami. It coated his tongue, slid down his throat. It blocked his windpipe, ceasing the flow of oxygen. The blood moved slowly, and no matter how many times Heero swallowed he could not get it down enough to breathe. He was suffocating. Death wouldn't come quick enough. Although Heero's body was numb to the chewing of the maggots, the fire in his lungs could not be ignored. He could feel darkness approaching and longed to slip into it, let it shield him from the pain of living. But the chill of the blood kept him awake, made him aware of every millimeter traveled.

As if from a great distance Heero heard the voice of Shinigami, so much like Duo Maxwell's, yet indefinitely darker and older. "Sorry buddy. I didn't wanna have to do this to you, but… you had to pay. And now you have eternity."

The boy couldn't comprehend the meaning behind those cryptic words though the haze separating him from the rest of the world. Although Heero's eyes were closed, he knew Shinigami was leaving and not coming back. He couldn't tell if the maggots left with the god or not, but he supposed it didn't matter. He couldn't feel them anyway. The pain in his lungs overrode any nips from the larvae. Heero's body tried to obey commands from his brain to breathe, but lungs remained still and flat. Blood, still cold, had stopped moving. Its chill seemed to spread across his body, slowly freezing even his heart. Heero was cold, not quite alive, but unable to die. He wanted to yell for Shinigami to come back and kill him, but it was impossible.

The black waters of death were so close, so tantalizingly close, yet so frustratingly far away. They waited from him to drop down into their depths, but Heero couldn't move. Trapped in this strange realm between life and death, he realized what Shinigami had meant about eternity. And it was worse than Hell.

~ Owari ~


End file.
